Restoring Order

Wow, I just realized how long it's been since my last blog posting. Well, that's because I've been moving (yet again). I am officially in my 47th abode. Oh, and this is a new state for me—Georgia. So that makes 11 different states (plus Bermuda) that I've lived in.

Don't ask me how I ended up moving this far from New York, especially after I swore I'd never live any further south than Virginia ever again. I'm not a fan of sweltering humidity. Truth is, it's a lot more affordable to be unemployed in Atlanta than in D.C. or NY. So I blame the recession, combined with the absurd cost of living in the D.C. area, for my latest move. Plus I have family here that I don't get to see often enough.

The only thing I'm lacking at this point is a car. In the 12 days that I've been here, I've learned that Atlanta has THE worst public transportation system I've encountered. I live on a major arterial that runs right into Buckhead and out to the suburbs, and yet there is only one single bus I can hop on to go up the road. And that bus only goes about a mile before it's at the end of its route. Not to mention, it runs about once an hour. Pretty useless.

I live near a Marta train station, but the only time that will help me out is if I'm going to the airport. Everyone here agrees that the trains are pretty useless for commuting.

So a car will be a necessity here—something I haven't had to deal with in nearly three years. The insurance will be expensive. I found out that my medical insurance will increase by a whopping fifty percent. My renters insurance tripled. My apartment (plus storage) is 35% cheaper and 14% larger than my place in Virginia. At least the lower cost of housing makes up for the outrageous cost of insurance.

Baby and Jelly survived the trip, which was a 10-hour drive. Baby, as usual, made it quite clear to me that she was upset about moving. Cats are creatures of habit. They don't like sudden, drastic changes in their environment. Baby knew what was up the minute I started packing boxes in December. They were both unhappy about being stuck in a closet/bathroom on moving day.

Then when I put them in their carriers for the road trip that Saturday afternoon, Baby cried for nearly two hours of the 7-hour drive to a South Carolina motel. She finally gave up. The next morning she repeated the dramatic routine, but we were at my brother's place just 2-1/2 hours later, so it wasn't as big a deal.

At my brother's, we had an entire 1,700-sf finished basement apartment to ourselves. So I couldn't understand why the kitties hid under a bed on the cold tile floor, refusing to come out for about an hour. There was so much exploring to be done, so it was bizarre behavior for cats. I realized later that they were probably terrified because they could smell my brother's dog Buddy (a sweet, harmless yellow lab).

After the movers left my apartment that Monday, I went back to my brother's to gather up the girls for their final, brief car ride to our new home.

As soon as I took them out of their carriers and they saw (and smelled) our "stuff," they were ecstatic. There were boxes stacked everywhere, but the girls recognized our things, and thanked me profusely with extra affection for a couple days. Even Jelly, who has never been a "lap cat," crawled up on top of me while I was reading in bed that night and snuggled in on my chest, purring. That's a first.

So here we are. I'll be done unpacking, organizing, and decorating by the end of this weekend. My multitudinous bruises are finally starting to fade, and my sore muscles are starting to feel better. Moving is a tremendous amount of work (especially when your movers fail to produce enough manpower to do the job during the timeframe that you have the loading dock at your apartment reserved—but that's another story).

I'm off to visit my mom and dad (in my brother's borrowed car). Hmmm. It's been about 13 years since I lived within driving distance of my parents. That definitely means more gumbo for me! :)