I Guess It's Time To Start The Countdown.

It's starting to dawn on me just how little time I have left at my job and in Sacramento in general. I'm excited and still scared. It's a big move. It's a big change. I'm looking forward to it, though.

 You can't tell me that's not pretty. Okay, you can, but you'd be wrong.

For some of my newer followers, I am uprooting myself and moving to Sticksville, USA. My grandparents have a cattle ranch, and put out a monthly publication as well. I will be helping out on the ranch and with the paper. I will be looking part-time work (at least) to help with bills and hopefully meet folks up there. The scariest part of this is that fact that the only two people I know in this town are my grandparents. But, at least I have them. When I moved to Sacramento, I had no one.

I'm really looking forward to getting out of the city. I swear they should check IQ's before they issue licenses. I'm looking forward to no more apartment living. I'm sick and tired of hearing my neighbors. I don't care what I'm hearing. Okay, so I am aware of the fact that I will still hear neighbors even while living in a house, but um, there are some things I won't be forced to hear. Just use your imagination, folks. 

Everyone at work keeps teasing me about where I'm moving to. It's okay, I don't mind. Most of them are city folk, or at the very least, suburbanites, and have no idea what I see in tiny towns. When I say "tiny", I mean tiny. The town I'm moving to has maybe 300 people. And one 4 way stop. Wal-Mart has yet to hear of this town. Which means, it barely exists if Wal-Mart hasn't shown up yet. They constantly ask me if I'll have running water, electricity, internet, cable, etc. FYI, it's a yes to all those.

My grandparents are excited, too, and are very much looking forward to having my help up there. They are actually helping me out just as much I'll be helping them out. For starters, I get a house. I'll be working for rent, really. And while I tease and joke about how it's stuck in the wrong decade when it comes to the interior, I'm just glad it has a roof, a heater, and it's not attached to a neighbor. Decor can be worked with and altered fairly easily. Plus, it's big. All of my shit belongings will fit without a problem. And it has a nice big front porch and a yard. Front and back. And a lawn. Seriously folks, this a big deal. I haven't had a lawn since I lived with my parents. So, even though it's still the 70s inside, everything else trumps that.

There is one thing I can't stand however. The packing up. My house is a freaking disaster. It's driving me bonkers. I have boxes everywhere. Plus I'm going through things so my neighbors must think I'm hoarding trash or something. This is when you find that a one bedroom apartment is small. During my last move, I lived in a two bedroom apartment. In that one, I could just shove all the boxed crap into the spare room. Here, I can't really do that. It's kind of all around. I have little walk-ways starting to form. My cat keeps looking at me with the look that says, "Ahh crap. Not again."

Oh, and that's another thing. My cat doesn't travel well. Really. If I take her to my parents for the holidays, it's two and a half hours of "MEOW!!! MEEEEOOOOWW! GRRRRRRR!!!" And half the time more often than not I have to stop half way to clean the mess she made in her carrier. Why? Because it's a stinky mess. I let her out at the house and she's got drool dangling for a mile, she's pissed herself more than once, and she's looking like she's coming out of surgery. Minus the whole staggering thing. Now, when we drive back home, she cries for about 30 minutes and then is quiet for the rest of the trip. And I have no mess at all to clean up. I'm going to have two full days of travel with her when I move. I'm either going to need ear/nose plugs or some Dramamine. 

 Not to self: Ask vet about drugging cat. And trim those damn nails.