Among all the other changes that this move is bringing, I find that I'm doing the most detestable of all things (in my mind): playing dumb in order to have people to take pity on me. Or what I call Jessica Simpson Logic. Hear me out: I don't think she's dumb, at all. I feel like her "chicken of the sea" moments were carefully planned cons. She pretended not to know things because it got her things, attention from the second best looking guy in a mediocre boy band, a show on MTV, a string of mediocre NFL players. If it wasn't so damaging to females as a whole, she'd be considered a genius.
Back to my story though, I went to the dump this week for the first time in well, ever, and found that I had no idea what I was doing when it came to throwing trash away. You mean I don't just put it out on the sidewalk and some magical trash fairy takes it away. That's how it works right? Apparently not. Prior to leaving for the dump, I laid a tarp down in the backseat and loaded the trash in. Gingerly I might add, because it's gross.
Upon arriving at the dump (or as the sign says "Transfer Station" in yet another example of Maine trying to get fancy), I was greeted by a kindly man in his 70's, I knew he would be helpful if I didn't know what I was doing. So, in a move that I literally despise, I simply smiled played dumb and told the old man I wasn't sure if I put the sticker on the right-hand side and that I just moved to town and I've never been to a dump before. Well, not only did he help me move the sticker on the car but he took all of the bags of trash out of my car and help me fold up the tarp that I used to lug them down. The smell was disgusting, the view even bleaker but as long as the old man is there to help, I would go back, if there was no other option, and a gun to my head.
In addition to my excursion to the dump, I ventured to Bangor alone as well this week. I had to get a mailbox, another service that perplexed me when we moved here. To figure out the Pony Express, I literally walked in to the Post Office and said "How does mail work here?" Well, apparently, you install a mailbox and they deliver it to you. My trip to Bangor was not that easy, it's about a 40 minute drive, mostly on Route 1, which is a two lane road with varying speed limits. Most of the roads are like that, it's like the skit from South Park, "Follow the road?" "Which road?" "This is Canada, we only have 1 road."
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Searsport, Seriously Small Town
It came to my attention when looking up the town we are living in that the year round population (2,641) is roughly the same number of people that when to my high school. Seriously. That's a town?
That's the bustling downtown area. A veritable metropolis.
It also appears to be a former home to many great sea captains, which intrigues me as I love all things nautical. Out of the 43 miles that the town covers, a third of that is water. It's going to be an adjustment. I get the impression that my aloof Boston attitude is not going to go over well.
In terms of location, it is pretty far up there, about 3 and a half hours from Boston, an hour east of Augusta and then just south of Bangor. It's a nice location but not really near much. There is a Hannaford supermarket in town and a couple small chain restaurants, including Wendy's and my favorite, Pizza Hut Italian Bistro. Seriously, PH, stop fronting. You serve pizza with cheese piped into the crust, no part of that says "bistro."
Just to give a small example of how far we are, Mr. T and I were searching for the closest warehouse store (BJ's, Costco, Sam's Club) nearby and found some surprising results. We started with BJ's since we already have a card there, nothing even on the radar, so we moved on to Costco. We were given a location, in Fredericton, New Brunswick... as in CANADA. I can just imagine the conversations at the border: "Ma'am, what's your business in Canada?" "I need a lot of toilet paper and chips." Needless to say, not a lot of buying in bulk in our future.
I took a walk around in town to get the lay of the land and to pick up tickets for the dump. Encountered a few interesting things.
In terms of location, it is pretty far up there, about 3 and a half hours from Boston, an hour east of Augusta and then just south of Bangor. It's a nice location but not really near much. There is a Hannaford supermarket in town and a couple small chain restaurants, including Wendy's and my favorite, Pizza Hut Italian Bistro. Seriously, PH, stop fronting. You serve pizza with cheese piped into the crust, no part of that says "bistro."
Just to give a small example of how far we are, Mr. T and I were searching for the closest warehouse store (BJ's, Costco, Sam's Club) nearby and found some surprising results. We started with BJ's since we already have a card there, nothing even on the radar, so we moved on to Costco. We were given a location, in Fredericton, New Brunswick... as in CANADA. I can just imagine the conversations at the border: "Ma'am, what's your business in Canada?" "I need a lot of toilet paper and chips." Needless to say, not a lot of buying in bulk in our future.
I took a walk around in town to get the lay of the land and to pick up tickets for the dump. Encountered a few interesting things.
This isn't even ironic. It's legitimately a former fuel oil building.
This is the library. It's so pastoral and adorable.
Story about the dump to come later. For now, I'm working on some sewing (back up and functional after the move). Will probably post pictures of that later too.
Irrational Fears
Moving has forced me to face a lot of irrational stupid fears that I have. From driving alone to eating alone even just generally being alone, not to mention my fear of being anywhere outdoors at night that isn't lit up like Las Vegas Blvd.
I drove from from Searsport to my former home in Boston this weekend for a bachelorette party and to continue to clean out my old apartment. Beyond the fact that there was a lot more left in the apartment than I anticipated (which Mr. T got an earful about), it was a good chance to catch up with some people and generally decompress after the stress of moving. And I truly believed that, prior to getting up Friday morning. I had a job interview that day and was going to leave straight from there. So, an hour into my drive to the interview I decided that there was no way I was taking this job. It was an hour drive from my house in good weather with no traffic and it seemed to be a little too disorganized for me.
After a quick trip home (I forgot something), it was off on the open road... for 4 freaking hours. Now, for those that know me well, I have not owned a car in 5 years. I have shared one with Mr. T and don't really drive too much. I can drive, but I don't really like to, it's tedious and I have a short attention span. But armed with an audiobook and some Sugar Free Red Bull, off I went. I encountered virtually no traffic and started to enjoy my time alone. Stopping at the Burlington Mall (I was staying with my in-laws), I ate alone for the first time in years.
See, I consider myself a relatively independent person, but I have never once thought of myself as a loner. When I was a kid, I had my younger sister tagging along with me; in high school and college, I always had at least one best friend with whom to cause a ruckus. And then came Kevin, and much to his sister's disbelief (hehe), I actually enjoy hanging out with him all the time. So leaving him and the pup alone in the house and journeying on my own to another state, it's a little scary. Eating in a busy food court without someone to talk to or something to do is daunting. But I am slowly but surely getting used to it.
The outdoors thing is a whole other matter. At no point in my life will I ever be comfortable in this level of darkness. Seriously, no streetlights, not many passing headlights and one 60 watt bulb to protect me against any manner of outdoor creatures. Not to mention the fact that every time I talk to my mom she warns me to watch out for fisher cats. It doesn't matter that I have a 60 pound dog to protect me, I fear even the tiniest of creatures.
I drove from from Searsport to my former home in Boston this weekend for a bachelorette party and to continue to clean out my old apartment. Beyond the fact that there was a lot more left in the apartment than I anticipated (which Mr. T got an earful about), it was a good chance to catch up with some people and generally decompress after the stress of moving. And I truly believed that, prior to getting up Friday morning. I had a job interview that day and was going to leave straight from there. So, an hour into my drive to the interview I decided that there was no way I was taking this job. It was an hour drive from my house in good weather with no traffic and it seemed to be a little too disorganized for me.
After a quick trip home (I forgot something), it was off on the open road... for 4 freaking hours. Now, for those that know me well, I have not owned a car in 5 years. I have shared one with Mr. T and don't really drive too much. I can drive, but I don't really like to, it's tedious and I have a short attention span. But armed with an audiobook and some Sugar Free Red Bull, off I went. I encountered virtually no traffic and started to enjoy my time alone. Stopping at the Burlington Mall (I was staying with my in-laws), I ate alone for the first time in years.
See, I consider myself a relatively independent person, but I have never once thought of myself as a loner. When I was a kid, I had my younger sister tagging along with me; in high school and college, I always had at least one best friend with whom to cause a ruckus. And then came Kevin, and much to his sister's disbelief (hehe), I actually enjoy hanging out with him all the time. So leaving him and the pup alone in the house and journeying on my own to another state, it's a little scary. Eating in a busy food court without someone to talk to or something to do is daunting. But I am slowly but surely getting used to it.
The outdoors thing is a whole other matter. At no point in my life will I ever be comfortable in this level of darkness. Seriously, no streetlights, not many passing headlights and one 60 watt bulb to protect me against any manner of outdoor creatures. Not to mention the fact that every time I talk to my mom she warns me to watch out for fisher cats. It doesn't matter that I have a 60 pound dog to protect me, I fear even the tiniest of creatures.
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
LIttle House in Maine
Figured I would share some pictures of our cute little house. Regrettably I didn't get any true "before pictures" but these have just a couple things in them. Follow along for the virtual tour.
Front door and massive front yard.
View off our back porch, that is a pond, not safe for swimming, but scenic.
The field beside our house, with a guest appearance by Tessie.
Front room that will become the guest room.
Kevin's office downstairs.
Bathroom, pretty basic. But I've managed to brighten it up.
Nice big shower.
Kitchen
Other side of kitchen, dining area.
Living room with door to back deck.
Stairs! (Again, a Tess cameo.)
Upstairs hallway. Horrendous carpet, but I will cover it.
My office/sewing room upstairs.
Part of our huge master bedroom.
The other side of our huge master bedroom.
So that is the general tour. I took these Sunday morning before we had finished emptying the truck, so not all of our things are inside, but you get the general idea. Slowly but surely it's coming together.
Had to wait until yesterday for cable and Internet to come so that is why these are coming so late. Promise I will be better about posting going forward. Coming soon: walking around Searsport, trips to Bangor & Rockland, lost in a supermarket and adventures in unpacking.
Saturday, September 1, 2012
The Reckoning
If only that could always be said in Tom Hardy's voice. Moving day. Surrounded by boxes, alone with a completely panicked dog and my in-laws are on the way. It's right about now that I wish I hired movers. That's all for now, more packing to do.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Cold (and Heartless) White North
I've always joked that I am a little bit heartless (even been called so in song), but I feel like this whole moving things has brought it out in me like little else has. Moving, very quickly, 300+ miles away from my friends and family and everything that I have known my whole life is traumatic but it seems like the people around me are reacting to it a lot more emotionally than I am. The truth is it's a sham. I am just putting on my inner Dr. Brennan (Bones) in an attempt to deal with it.
(Relocating for work is simply a logical imperative. Don't cry about it.)
I feel the most bad when talking to the people really close to me about it, my sisters, my mom, best friends. They can see the rational end of it, but it doesn't make it any less emotional. In all reality, the only person I see everyday is Mr. T and he is going with me, so I won't have the chance to miss him. For some people, it does not seem to be the physical distance, but more of an emotional distance. People are afraid they will lose touch, but I feel like it will be quite the opposite, I will have very few friends up there, and no job initially, so what else am I going to do besides catch up with people online.
It all came to a head though over the weekend. Mr. T had a golf tournament that he plays in every year, a friend of his who was KIA in Bagdhad in 2004. It's a great cause, close to his heart and he gets to hang out with his friends and goof off. And this year, before we found out about all this moving stuff, his father paid his entrance fee so how could he say no. He left bright and early Saturday morning and I was left by myself to clean and pack the house and get it in some semblance of order before prospective tenants came over to see it. Seems like an easy task, right? Fast-forward to 3:15pm (prospect coming at 4:30), I am the sweatiest that I have been in a long time, up to my elbows in home remedy cleaning supplies and supposed to be out the door in 45 minutes.
I got everything done, and went and had a very nice dinner and wine evening with one of my best girlfriends, but it was an incredibly trying afternoon. Mr. T met me at our friend's house. We hung out with them and their baby and then headed home to catch some shut eye before doing it all again. Arriving home, we were greeted by one of our awful neighbors butchering Springsteen and we collapsed in bed. Whether it was the sheer exhaustion, the fast approaching move date or just all the emotions catching up with me, my facade fell like the Berlin Wall on Sunday morning. I had gotten ready to go, put on eyeliner and was headed out to a family party and next thing I know, I am sobbing with black streaks running down my face. I had my moment, collected myself and went about my day, but I know that this will happen again, just hopefully, it will be a little more convenient next time.
-- Not so Heartless.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Packing is Stressful
Statistically, studies show that moving is one of the most stressful things a person can do in their life. I am trying not to cave and be a statistic but it is really difficult. Over the weekend, fueled by a trenta black iced coffee and very berry hibiscus refresher (for Mr. T), we started what will henceforth be referred to as "The Great Purge."
In every sense of the word, this adventure is going to teach us to live simply. After 3 years in the same place, you accumulate a lot of stuff. Not to mention over 10 years of living on your own. I am frankly, really sick of having to move things that I don't need, or will never use so we are donating or throwing away a lot of unnecessary things. Starting with clothes in our bedroom, moving on to the office and living room, at the end of the day, we had 9 bags of clothes (up to 11 now) and 3 bags of books & housewares that we brought to Goodwill (making sure to get a receipt). Even though thinking of the tax write off was amazing, mostly, it just felt incredible to get rid of all that unnecessary stuff. We will be continuing to get rid of things as the week progresses and hopefully when the truck pulls up, we will only be taking what we need to Maine.
All of this is incredibly stressful though, no doubt about it. Trying to condense your entire life into boxes and deciding what is and isn't important in 10 minutes is emotionally and physically draining. You are reliving everything you experienced with that CD or where you wore that shirt, but it's much more economical to hold on the the memories, not the item. Unfortunately, Mr. T rarely feels the same way, he assigns sentimental value to things and I understand it, I just can't do the same for some things. Going through old papers and notes, I found notes I passed with friends in high school and corrected homework from 2000. While it was nice to take a brief trip down memory lane, I can keep the memories, I don't need the physical reminders.
Packing has unfortunately distracted me from the rest of my life. I have been bad about getting together with friends and family before we go and completely distracted me from my Dad's big 50th birthday (tomorrow). I'm taking him to dinner and we got him a gift (which is stuck in shipping) but I feel like a little bit of a schmuck not doing more. In addition, one of my girlfriends and I have been trying to plan a night out (she just had a baby) for a while and just haven't been able to connect scheduling-wise and now it feels slightly rushed. We made plans for this weekend and I am definitely going to enjoy it, but I am wishing we had more time.
Like I keep reminding everyone, this is happening very quickly, but it's not like we are moving forever and we are not going that far. Plus, if people read my blog (shameless plus), they will be able to keep up with me anyway.
In every sense of the word, this adventure is going to teach us to live simply. After 3 years in the same place, you accumulate a lot of stuff. Not to mention over 10 years of living on your own. I am frankly, really sick of having to move things that I don't need, or will never use so we are donating or throwing away a lot of unnecessary things. Starting with clothes in our bedroom, moving on to the office and living room, at the end of the day, we had 9 bags of clothes (up to 11 now) and 3 bags of books & housewares that we brought to Goodwill (making sure to get a receipt). Even though thinking of the tax write off was amazing, mostly, it just felt incredible to get rid of all that unnecessary stuff. We will be continuing to get rid of things as the week progresses and hopefully when the truck pulls up, we will only be taking what we need to Maine.
All of this is incredibly stressful though, no doubt about it. Trying to condense your entire life into boxes and deciding what is and isn't important in 10 minutes is emotionally and physically draining. You are reliving everything you experienced with that CD or where you wore that shirt, but it's much more economical to hold on the the memories, not the item. Unfortunately, Mr. T rarely feels the same way, he assigns sentimental value to things and I understand it, I just can't do the same for some things. Going through old papers and notes, I found notes I passed with friends in high school and corrected homework from 2000. While it was nice to take a brief trip down memory lane, I can keep the memories, I don't need the physical reminders.
Packing has unfortunately distracted me from the rest of my life. I have been bad about getting together with friends and family before we go and completely distracted me from my Dad's big 50th birthday (tomorrow). I'm taking him to dinner and we got him a gift (which is stuck in shipping) but I feel like a little bit of a schmuck not doing more. In addition, one of my girlfriends and I have been trying to plan a night out (she just had a baby) for a while and just haven't been able to connect scheduling-wise and now it feels slightly rushed. We made plans for this weekend and I am definitely going to enjoy it, but I am wishing we had more time.
Like I keep reminding everyone, this is happening very quickly, but it's not like we are moving forever and we are not going that far. Plus, if people read my blog (shameless plus), they will be able to keep up with me anyway.
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