So there’s something I’ve had to do with this move that’s been a fairly breathtaking thing for me.
And yes, for those of you playing along at home… I have moved… further south… with a lovely ocean view and all that entails. In fact I’ve got a new fabulous gig, in a new wonderful little town, with new… well… new pretty much everything! And no worries… it’s all good! Sometimes you just have to push the reset button and see what happens.
Anyway, together with all of the excitement is the bad part… because there’s always a bit of negative in all positives. For me that has been the fact that everything about this move is in my name… the lease, the electric, the water, the internet, the renters insurance… everything… and I’m the one that had to make all of it happen. I had to find the house, qualify for it, set up all of the services I need for it, and next up is coordinating the move into it. And I realized as I’ve worked my way through all of this that this is only the second time in my life that I’ve had to adult at this level.
Seriously. Only the second time. And I am 53.
And that knowledge, honestly, is very intimidating. And crazy-making. And it’s making me very retrospective about all of my choices in life. Mainly the one where I have been kidding myself for years that I’m independent.
Yeah right. Um hmm. #notsomuch
Oh I’m sure I’ll be writing a lot more about all of this but suffice to say it’s a lot to process. A lot. But I’m muddling through. Slowly but surely. Like molasses in Massachusetts in January.
But in the meantime keep my immature butt in your thoughts. And picture me adulting. You’re welcome. Guess I should start charging for the laughs…