#montgomerymove2013

This year, unlike last year, I didn't live tweet the disaster that was my cross-town move. Honestly, I've been too f'n tired. Why? Well, because...May was a crazy month for me. First there was my weeklong story-gathering trip to Florida, which was an adventure all in itself. After five days and nearly 1200 miles, I arrived safely back in Montgomery just in time to move.

Everything about the move makes me want to tear my hair out.

• First it was a struggle getting everything packed and physically moved from one location to another. (Don't ever move hungover.)
• Then the power wasn't turned on the weekend I moved. (Oops.)
• Then there was a problem with the fuse box, which presented a fire hazard. (Yeah...)
• Then the gas fueled water heater wasn't vented properly, which presented a fire hazard. (Cue a MAJOR freakout by me.)
•  Now that every one of those issues has been fixed, I finally get to take a hot shower in my own home…and the water is brown. When it's not brown it's got a yellow tint. (Who wants to bathe in brown or yellow water?)

Literally every day has been something. I'm sure one day I'll look back on this and still cry laugh. Until then: I'm buying a case of water bottles, LOTS of beer and wondering why on Earth I moved into an old house.

Because I really can't even broach the subject of unpacking, organizing or rearranging my furniture.

...and I wonder why I can't find clean clothes?

Three Hundred and Sixty Five

365 days ago my life changed, in a very big way. I don't think I really took time to let it sink in that I was moving, that I was no longer going to be in a town I called home for so long. That I was no longer going to be comfortable in my own life. That I was going to struggle like I never thought possible. (That, one year later I would still struggle like I never thought I would.)

365 days of waking up and wondering if today would be the day I snapped, packed up my crap and moved home.

365 nights of going to bed in an apartment I pay all the bills for, myself.

Today I turned in the keys to my first grown up apartment. I am slowly moving away from my old self.

I'm becoming a real grown up. Not the fake one I've spent a few years pretending to be. I wonder what the future will hold. When I moved to Montgomery I had no idea what to expect. I thought I had things pretty well figured out, but I don't—I have no flippin' idea what I am doing, where I am going and who I will become.

The dogs are alive and well. I've managed to pay most of my bills on time. I don't have insurmountable credit card debit. I'm doing better than the national average. I know who I am. I have an idea of who I want to become.

Things aren't perfect, but I'm learning to let go of the perfect ideal I had in my head and roll with what is actually happening. Roll with the punches, isn't that a famous Jerry Maguire line?

I've never been good at looking back: I just get melancholy; I am not a person that really likes change. Ironic, because I love adventures and yearn for the day where on a whim, with some planning, I can just up and travel the globe.  

But here I am, looking to day 366 of living in Montgomery in a new (to me at least) house, with boxes and tote bags and my prized possessions shit everywhere… I'm sure it'll get unpacked and organized eventually, just like my life.

For now, I'm going to enjoy having a porch swing and some early Summer weather. Or at least try to.

Fulfilling My Civic Duty...

So I might have jury duty? While I was out of town, I received a survey from the US District Court as a prescreening after being randomly selected to possibly serve on a jury.

"Prospective" who are we kidding? Might as well as Juror #6.

I have the worst luck in the history of the world. This type of stuff, when it happens to me, usually results in a worse case scenario coming to life.

"Randomly selected to possibly serve" might as well be my summons. And while most I've talked to about this either laugh at me uncontrollably (thanks Momma), tell me to just stick to an extreme and not wavier (thanks Corey) or wax poetic about civic responsibility (thanks Papa); I know I will be on some Criminal Minds-esque gruesome case that leaves me horrified for weeks. Because that’s just how my life rolls.

F.

The Hard Hat Diaries: To Pee or Not to Pee?

It's funny how I have begun to measure my Woods Barbie trips. Not by the hours I spend in the car, or the miles I drive. But in the amount of drive thru meals I consume. How many Hampton versus Holiday Inns I lay my head in.

Which is just sad.

But, frankly, it's the reality of "traveling for work," at least when it comes to my job. I'm sure the glamorous people of the world that work glamorous jobs travel a little different than I do. Good for them. I wear work boots, a hard hat and never forget to pack my sense of adventure. Or GPS.

Florida is one of those states I really haven't (at least prior to last week) had a chance to explore. While I'm sure south Florida is lovely, and God knows the Keys are where it's freaking at, north and central Florida, well you kinda reminded me of Talladega, Ala.

I did get to spend one afternoon at the hotel's pool, soaking in some Florida sun. So, win? This pool mind you, was at a Hampton Inn in Lake City, Fla., and I could literally see I-75 from my lounger. We shared a parking lot with a RV dealership.  It wasn't quite as trailer park as your wild imagination might make it seem. But close. VERY close. 

Big highlights of this trip: I got lost, big time. (Surprise, surprise.) I didn't get a single marriage proposal. (Depressing.) I spent six hours with the same logger. He had so much to say, and I was grateful that the interview was so in depth. But around hour four of being in the woods, I literally had to think about which was worse: peeing in the woods without toilet paper or wetting my pants.

I'll let you draw your own conclusions as to what I selected.