Rob got a new job in North San Diego County, so we're moving again to get closer to his job. He's not a good commuter and can't take the traffic in stride.
I hate moving. I hate doing change-of-address notices to the utilities, the banks, the credit card companies, the post office. I hate packing and unpacking, I hate wrapping dishes and teapots and worrying about our volunteer helpers dropping something down two flights of stairs. I hate trying to convince Rob (usually unsuccessfully) to hire movers or at least hire a truck. You don't know how much I'm not looking forward to this move in the middle of the hottest summer in San Diego history. Every time we move I feel like I've aged 5 years.
I gave Rob an ultimatum - this had
better be the last damned time we move into an apartment for a few months, the next time we move it'd
better be into a house where we will live for years and years. And if he then gets a new job 90 minutes away, he can commute like the rest of us. Or, if he wants to move closer to
that job, he's welcome to do so but I would not be joining him this time.
I'm still not thrilled about moving, but I try to look on the bright side - coming home to a happy, relaxed husband every night instead of a cranky, nervous wreck. Also, the little cul-de-sac where we live now
used to be pretty nice, but MTDB turned our formerly lightly-used, quiet and snug Trolley station it into a big, bustling bus depot, so with the increased traffic, noise, smog, and shifty characters using the shelter, it's starting to look a little shabby and feel a bit frayed and kind of grimy sometimes... OMG I sound like a total elitist snob - "I don't like the poor people looking at me going to work so we're moving to la-di-dah Carlsbad." Sigh. Next you know I'll be driving an SUV, voting Republican and being scared of black people.
Posted by conniechai
at 2:06 PM PDT