What a Difference a Day Makes

We awoke yesterday morning covered in dogs and babies, feeling hung over and bleary eyed. I suppose it could have been the wine, but I think it was more due to the culmination of 11 days of travel, and the heavy fall into our own bed after two long weeks.

Even with all that was done before our arrival, still so much lay ahead of us, in terms of unpacking and adjusting to our new surroundings. I ventured out to find a Target for paper towels and garbage bags. Later, I learned that my sister had purchased them, but I did not know this at the time.

We decided to each take a kid and divide and conquer.  I sluggishly got into the car with Zachary, and through squinty, sleepy eyes, sent a text to a friend asking where the nearest drive-through Starbucks was located. The response I got back was “Ha!” It seems I would have to get used to this “putting coats and boots on children” thing.  She directed me to the Starbucks in the middle of town, (at which I would have to actually exit the vehicle with my son and walk inside), and assisted me with this insurmountable situation. It also must be noted that she  purchased all of our coffee and breakfast. God bless good friends.

After I was properly caffeinated, I felt more equipped to face my new territory.  I looked up and noticed that the middle of town might possibly the most quaint northeast village there is, directly out of a Thomas Kinkade watercolor.

However, It seems that my five years in LA completely deactivated vital northeast brain neurons, imperative for completing the tasks that lay before me. My GPS is apparently useless in New Jersey, as the creativity used to design the streets, is just as baffling to it, as it is to me.  I swear it was trying to recalculate me back to the 405, where traffic seldom moves, but where you expect to drive for an hour and cover no ground.

I passed two Targets, but could turn into neither of them due to jiggity jaggity one way streets. I felt like a foreigner in a new land. People were honking, street signs were loopty looing, and after an hour, I angrily found my way home, sans paper towels and garbage bags. I called my Mom in a panic and with just a touch of melodrama, told my husband we made a mistake. I couldn’t even find the store!  As he held two children in the middle of their own melt downs, he calmly, but sternly said, “Be the parent, please.”  Touche.

Not much got completed yesterday.

But today, I awoke with a pep in my step and a fresh set of eyes.  The stack of bills on the kitchen table were all paid, the new dryer was retrieved and hooked up, cable, phone and internet have been activated, I’ve installed fixtures and dimmers on each light switch (because overhead lighting is atrocious, and I am apparently a certified electrician), the fireplace has been inspected, a baby gate has been affixed to the top of the stairs, I have met with our new pediatrician, and have successfully pulled into the Trader Joe’s parking lot.

I think I’m gonna like it here.

But still...what's up with the one way streets?


6 responses to “What a Difference a Day Makes

  1. Welcome to the land of the “jug handles” you will never be allowed to negotiate a left hand turn on your own, ever again. LOL! You got A LOT done despite that–congrats!! 🙂

  2. Amazing girl! So happy you are here! Holla when Katie and I can come see you. We are making a trip! xoxo

  3. Lol! Yeah…moving sucks….I still don’t live with my new husband because having his bag on the chair in my dining room sends me into a tizzy…oh- and as for one-way streets in jersey…careful if you go to the home depot superstore a mile or two from you. People get so uptight when you drive towards them going the wrong way. Geez!

  4. How exciting, Em!! I know it’ll be overwhelming for a while but everything will fall into place. I wrote yesterday about how amazing your family is for making your home so warm when you arrived. Somehow, however, it got deleted…maybe it’s b/c I have my own set of stumbling blocks right now. Dylan is sick sick sick so between washing vomited-on clothing/bedding, changing his diaper and responding to, “Mommy, hold me”. I can’t get much else done right now. Love you and want to come help you get settled. I’ll call you soon. xoxo

  5. It’s called a “New Jersey left”….very much like the “Michigan lefts” I discovered when trying to make a left-hand turn in Kalamazoo, MI. That’s right….Kalamazoo. I didn’t make that one up.

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