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So. I'm in West Virginia, now. All safe and sound and in one piece, and waiting for everything to start.
The drive itself was actually a lot more fun than I had anticipated - it's been a long time since I've done a solo long distance drive, and I forgot how much I enjoy them. When I'm passengering long-distance, I tend to fall asleep within an hour of leaving the house as a defense mechanism against headaches, and if I'm driving anywhere with more than one person I tend to gravitate towards passenger status if at all possible. Driving by myself, though, with nothing but the car and 700-plus miles ahead of me, is an almost meditative experience. I can set my own pace, I don't need to stop unless absolutely necessary, and there's noone else to listen to me sing or bring up the fact that, while I may enjoy it, the soundtrack to 'Titanic: The Musical' is probably not the greatest work of art mankind has ever produced.
Anyway. Twelve and a half hours on the road, almost no traffic, and some utterly breathtaking scenery found along equally breathtaking hairpin turns on narrow mountain-edges are behind me, and six weeks or so of visiting and working are ahead. My hosts are absent right now, leaving me and the cats to fend for ourselves. I'm managing to survive fairly well, so far - my apartment is adorable, and I'm having to fight the strong nesting urge driving me to put knicknacks on every flat surface and hangings on the walls. The cats have accepted me, and are now following me around in a tiny fluffy herd as I move through the house. I've seen the clinic, and I should be able to settle in there within a few days. All I'm waiting for now is the arrival of my third housemate, which will likely be sometime tomorrow.
I'm looking out the computer room window, right now. For a city girl like me, it seems almost unreal - hills curving in front of each other as far as the eye can see, making a patchwork quilt of green fields and brown earth and red-gold leaves. The road is almost invisible, and the sun is setting in pink and red streaks made even more vivid by the fact that the sky out here is huge like nothing I've ever seen. If I look out the back door, there will probably be deer there.
I love Boston. I love being able to walk to the library and the organic grocery and the T and seven different ethnic restaurants. I love living in a blue state, and having all the culture and free arts I could ever want. But.... damn, it's pretty here.
The drive itself was actually a lot more fun than I had anticipated - it's been a long time since I've done a solo long distance drive, and I forgot how much I enjoy them. When I'm passengering long-distance, I tend to fall asleep within an hour of leaving the house as a defense mechanism against headaches, and if I'm driving anywhere with more than one person I tend to gravitate towards passenger status if at all possible. Driving by myself, though, with nothing but the car and 700-plus miles ahead of me, is an almost meditative experience. I can set my own pace, I don't need to stop unless absolutely necessary, and there's noone else to listen to me sing or bring up the fact that, while I may enjoy it, the soundtrack to 'Titanic: The Musical' is probably not the greatest work of art mankind has ever produced.
Anyway. Twelve and a half hours on the road, almost no traffic, and some utterly breathtaking scenery found along equally breathtaking hairpin turns on narrow mountain-edges are behind me, and six weeks or so of visiting and working are ahead. My hosts are absent right now, leaving me and the cats to fend for ourselves. I'm managing to survive fairly well, so far - my apartment is adorable, and I'm having to fight the strong nesting urge driving me to put knicknacks on every flat surface and hangings on the walls. The cats have accepted me, and are now following me around in a tiny fluffy herd as I move through the house. I've seen the clinic, and I should be able to settle in there within a few days. All I'm waiting for now is the arrival of my third housemate, which will likely be sometime tomorrow.
I'm looking out the computer room window, right now. For a city girl like me, it seems almost unreal - hills curving in front of each other as far as the eye can see, making a patchwork quilt of green fields and brown earth and red-gold leaves. The road is almost invisible, and the sun is setting in pink and red streaks made even more vivid by the fact that the sky out here is huge like nothing I've ever seen. If I look out the back door, there will probably be deer there.
I love Boston. I love being able to walk to the library and the organic grocery and the T and seven different ethnic restaurants. I love living in a blue state, and having all the culture and free arts I could ever want. But.... damn, it's pretty here.
