Thursday, November 18, 2010
Fall is messy; leaves seem to decide to leave their trees all at once in great showers that cover the road up the hill to our apartment. The wind blows them away fast enough, but it's still fun to occasionally appear to be driving on a road made entirely of yellow and red leaves all the way up.
It's the middle of November and I almost never need more than maybe a long-sleeved shirt, unless it's at night, and then I might need a sweater at most. I am comparing this to last year, the Year of Baseboard Heating in Southern Illinois, and becoming ever more grateful at the prospect of this warmth in South Carolina and the reality that when I need it, I have central heating.
I never realized how wonderful working heat was, having had it my whole life, until last winter when I wasn't working for a couple of months and spent so much time wearing so many layers of clothing in a desperate bid to win a staring contest against cold weather.
I will never take a working heating system for granted ever again.
And neither will my fingers and toes.
Nonetheless, I really miss taking all the walks we did, Jason and I. I miss living a stone's throw from the countryside and cornfields, seeing deer and turkeys almost every day. It's a little hard to see wild deer right next to the highway... although my in-laws had a big issue with deer in their garden and they're just off of one of the most popular roads in Greenville.
Nonetheless, I was thinking about this last night while talking to a friend of mine, and I thought; this town has been really good to me so far, and it's only been a few months. I still feel a little like a tourist who happened to get a job here, but I know a little bit more where things are every day.
Yesterday, I even gave directions on how to get to a Wal-mart to a man when I was leaving from visiting with friends at work. I even knew where to tell him to go. I was so proud of myself.
We're carving out a life here, and I can't really think of a better town to do it in.
Except that I wish liquor stores were open later.
And that what's open on Sunday- and when- wasn't so hit-or-miss.
ONE WEEK until my parents get here (!!!!!). 37 days until I fly to Illinois for Christmas.