I made it. Well, it wasn't as if it was a long journey, just a hop over the the Diablo Range from the central valley to the central coast, and voila. Here I am. Moving from a town with a population well over half a million to a town with a population of well under 30,000 is mind-boggling. The odd thing is, as I've stated in previous posts here, that where I am now is a destination, so tourists and visitors occupy the landscape in abundance, 12 months of the year, whereas where I was had absolutely zero tourists and visitors, so even with the population differential, I'm still more likely to be successful business-wise here than I had been there. Got that? My business no longer has to rely solely on internet shops and local word of mouth, I can actually get out there and drum up some biz!
But right now I mope. I miss my space. I miss my Bug. I miss the -- well, that's about all I miss so far. I feel out of sorts. Anxious still, and wondering what the hell to do next. I have to squeeze my life into the spaces left open here in this new life and I don't know where to begin.
The first thing I did when I got here was locate a bookstore and purchased 'A Dance With Dragons', the hardcover (and I NEVER purchase the hardcover) because the soft back isn't released until the end of October and I was desperate to drown myself in its pages, to forget about all the sh*t that needs unpacking, the potential haranguing I may get from my former landlord (the lady on the broom) not because I've done something untoward, but because it seems her nature to harangue, and basically to figure out once again where I fit. I hate this feeling. Universe, grant me the power to let go of worries that I cannot affect. Now, say it again.
During the move, I gave up my aromatic's mini-fridge. Mostly because I didn't think the poor thing could handle another trip. The little motor inside made a gawdawful sound when it was turned on, like someone using a hammer on it, before it got up to speed and smoothed out into silence. I'm going to miss Mini. Not only did she protect the most delicate of aromatics from the ravages of the central valley heat, she also kept my gin nice and cool.
I'd best stop putting off the inevitable. Time to unpack. Ugh.