Gotta love forgetting my blog.

So, six months ago today I packed up everything I own that I thought I might need, had everyone I know help me load it into a truck, and started moving to Louisiana for a boy I’d been dating for five months.

Crazy, right?

But he feels like home to me.  Louisiana, not so much.  I love the people, but it’s very much him that I’m here for.

Needless tangent aside, everyone has told me that it takes six months to truly settle into a new place and a new situation.  In a few days, it’ll be six months to the day of when I got here.  I do feel like I’m getting settled.  I don’t cry like I used to.  I have a job; I have school; I have friends.

My only obstacle right now is this damn town that I live in, that doesn’t actually qualify as a town.  Or a township, or a village, for that matter.  It’s a “census-designated place” with probably 500 people.  LAboy’s graduating class was 13, if that tells you anything.  I live down the street from my MIL, which is another story altogether, and about an hour (if you drive the speed limit) from town.  That’s a lotta gas, folks.

So I can’t really have friends over for a BBQ or anything.  Not that I’m the BBQing sort.  I’d more likely blow up the house trying.  So maybe that’s a good thing?

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