Dear readers, of whom there are about six, I have NOT in fact fallen off a cliff. In fact, there is nary a cliff in sight!

I am, however, sitting in my new backyard (fenced) watching the dog evacuate something fairly unpleasant and contemplating the next set of boxes to be unpacked. Also, buying a hoe so I can plant the garden. It’s a bit chilly today, so I suspect I’m putting that off.

The funny thing (among a number a funny things) about my dog, is that she will not shit alone. If I left her out here, she would stand staring at the back door or lie in the dirt but she would not shit. If she can’t get credit for being a good girl, she ain’t gonna do it.

Come to think of it, I believe I handled household chores the same way when I was a teenager.

I have been in our new home for almost two weeks. Other than an initial first week meltdown about people generally being shitheads, I think it’s going okay.

The shitheads, by the by, are the people you meet in life who are pleasant and happy to know you but mostly because as soon as you walk away they’re going to say unpleasant things about you to people you may or may not have in common. In this particular case, in common.

I can’t fathom why, at this late date, I’m still an optimist about people. I believe people to be generally good and well-meaning. So when this sort of shit happens, I SHOULDN’T be surprised but I totally am and then I’m launched right back into that 6th grade exile and my only response is the shell: I will be fine and pleasant with people and make no attempts to get to know them because I don’t need their baggage and bullshit in my life. Ugh.

On the bright side, as I told a lovely room of people last week, I have at least as many friends online (as in, online-only) that I have in real life and that does take some of the sting out of sacrificing a local social group. Which is to say, I won’t COMPLETELY sacrifice the local idea just that the bar to get in is pretty goddamn high and I won’t feel compelled to actually hold tryouts. I’m also trying to remind myself that I didn’t find a good friend in Colorado until late in my first year of living there.

Moving sucks.

The kitchen is my project today. We’ve lost about half the cupboard space we started with and, despite pretty hard culling on our belongings, I think it may be struggle to find everything a home. I’m doing pretty well on my 50% discard rate, though it remains to be determined if things will be sold or donated. I’m leaning pretty hard on documenting all of it and just donating because it would be so much less aggravating that organizing a sale.

I’m looking for work, though possibly less assiduously than I’d expected. There’s one opportunity which is more or less a lock, a response from another position that I’ll hear about this week, and I sent the local hospital an email. I’m going to wish I hadn’t- I just know it.

So. No mountains, much warmer weather, only a few people I like so far but I DID get drapes hung in the bedroom and I’m working on getting the treadmill out of the dining room.