Landing with a thud

You know how when a plane lands, sometimes it touches down gracefully and sometimes the pilot just puts it down with a thud? I’m feeling that thud right now. We made it to North Carolina last Saturday night and have been camping in our new house (which I love, though not the camping part) but it doesn’t feel like mine yet. Like, here! This is your house where you don’t know how to turn the lights on. You live here now.

It’s disorienting to say the least.

The drive across the country: Oregon, Utah, Idaho, Wyoming, Nebraska, Missouri, Illinois, Kentucky, Tennessee, North Carolina. It’s a lot. It’s a lot even without a cat but with a cat? It’s A LOT. Daniel howled and howled and howled and never stopped howling, poor buddy. We sedated him but sometimes he really fought it. He did not settle in and wanted us to know he was NEVER going to settle in. Once, we had to give him a second dose¹ because he was so distressed and then he was so doped up we took turns poking him for proof of life. I wish I was kidding.

Please know: I will never drive this cat across the country again. Apparently I said that the last time but this time I mean it. He’s too old for this shit and so are we. But we made it. No wheels came off this time and nothing terrible happened.

I’ve spent the week trying to figure out what time zone I live in and I’m slowly getting there but I still feel like I could sleep for days. From Saturday until Tuesday we had our suitcases, a cheap foam mattress, towels, and a few kitchen things. Nothing else. No furniture of any kind.

On Tuesday morning, our stuff arrived with two men to unload it all. It took seven hours and now there are so many boxes we can barely maneuver. I have no idea how we have so much stuff (despite getting rid of so much stuff!) and how it’s all going to fit into a slight smaller house with much smaller closets. We do, at least, have a big basement.

I spent all of yesterday unpacking the kitchen and I still have three bins and four boxes I haven’t touched. Unpacking seems like it would be easy but what it actually is is an endless series of decisions: where should this go? And this? And this? And allllll of this? In a way it’s satisfying but also stressful and frustrating.

Normal routines are gone for now - I have no gym, no friends, no plans. I do have my Peloton bike set up but can’t find my bike shoes and my workout clothes are all still in a box…somewhere. I’m not exercising or eating right or doing any of the things I’d normally do, but it’s temporary.

I’m working west coast hours for a few more weeks which is confusing and weird but I’m grateful for the extra paycheck. I’m spending my mornings before work wandering around, unpacking a random box and trying to figure out where everything will fit. Eventually I’ll figure out where I fit, but that takes more time. I somehow forgot about this part from our last move. The unmoored feeling.

All complaining aside I think we’ve landed in a good spot. Our little town seems to be going through a rapid revitalization, our neighborhood is eclectic, and we’re walkable to a very charming downtown full of restaurants and shops. The people here are friendly and helpful, which has been so nice.

And, as soon as this house is straight I will get back to writing here weekly. It’s just been an overwhelming month so far.

1. I did check the dosage requirements first, I’m not a monster.