I'm here, Charlotte.
The interim of life is a funny place. You’re excited, yet sad. Nervous, but exhilarated. I’m here, Charlotte. The interim is over. No more can I turn down invitations knowing a move is imminent – or work with a slight pang of guilt knowing the travel calendar I’m planning isn’t for my explorations, they’re for a person yet to be determined. During the past few weeks I’ve allowed my thoughts to drift to what my new life will hold. What will I be doing on Sunday nights instead of watching Revenge with Courtney? Who will make me laugh at work? The new is exciting. And, it’s here.
It’s here after a 1,500ish mile road trip with a layover in Nashville to meet a few of T’s friends and witness the most amazing hockey fight, a quick stop in Knoxville to visit with one of T’s bffls, and only two other stops. That’s correct, two total stops. Yes, we’re awesome.
I’m living with a lovely girl who answers to the name of Karissa. Not to be confused with Clarissa Explains it All. That's not how she’s saved in my phone. That’s a lie. I loved that show. Of course that’s how she’s saved in my phone.
First thing this morning I made my way to my new artsy-ish hood (the locals call it NoDa) and was greeted with the most adorable display of fresh flowers.
What? I’m not living with T? Of course not. Oddly, a lot of people have very heated opinions on this matter. That’s just silly, people. We’re not married. There’s no reason for me to burden him with my messiness. And, yes, I’m a very messy person. Stuff… errywhere.
Anyhow. I live in my little neighborhood, T lives in his. And, we live in the same town. How great is that?
This means I can annoy him anytime I want.
And, on random Monday nights I can walk to T's hood's pasta shop and pick up dinner. Is there anything more romantic that a few episodes of Breaking Bad, pasta and a sick fiancé? Nope. It's perfect.