As for the inside of the house, Jen has been the real trooper there.  While I was learning to cut grass, she unpacked the kitchen and put all the dishes in their places.  Speaking of which, this new kitchen is at least 30% larger than the kitchen we had at the old place.  What this means is that, first of all, I can’t find anything.  Secondly, we have so many drawers and cabinets that I think I saw a drawer that only had chopsticks, skewers, and those little corn on the cob handles that get pushed into the stalk for easy eating.  Talk about specialization in organization.

Moving out to the country has been weird even though I grew up in the exact same area.  I had grown accustomed to having some sidewalks.  I was used to having a coffee shop right near my house for those mornings that I didn’t feel like making my own coffee at home.  Arabica was the home to blue collar office workers and professionals who needed a caffeine fix on their way to work.  I have traded that in for a convenience store.  Instead of waiting in line and wondering which idiot will talk on their cell phone through the line, I have to worry about which idiot will park their landscaping truck and trailer to a point that I won’t be able to get my car into a parking lot.  Instead of lattes and extravagant forms of cream-based teas, I have dudes with tattoos and jean shorts actually buying the warmed breakfast sandwiches that fester under the heat lamps.

Speaking of tattoos, when I was standing in line this morning to buy some coffee, I noticed one guys had a tattoo on his leg.  It had two words, one on the top, and one on the bottom, that surrounded a caricature of a dude holding his thumbs up and smiling at me.  The word on the top was “Tattoos” and the word on the bottom was “Rule!”

Welcome home.