The Joys of Moving

The joys of moving.

First of all, whoever coined that phrase was a master of sarcasm. There is no joy in moving. There's packing, cleaning, and more packing. By the time you've filled up the 10th box of nothing but books, you begin to question the wisdom of relocating in the first place. Then there's the massive purge of half your belongings because, let's face it, they aren't valuable enough for you to schlep them across the state lines. Again. 

So, as you can tell, I moved. To the desert. I never thought I'd live in a place like this. It's hot, dry and absolutely beautiful. It's like I was transported to an alien world. I've never seen landscape like this. 

The total dork in me described moving from Seattle to Texas to Arizona as going from Caladan to Arrakis in stages. I'm just waiting to see when they'll start distributing Stillsuits in the greater Phoenix area. 

As hot as it has been since I arrived, I've still made the effort to get out of the house and explore my new surroundings. At least the air conditioning in my car works. I've explored my own neighborhood and know how to find several grocery stores, the bike shop, various Goodwill locations and of course, Starbucks. I'm hoping to be employed very soon, so I'm getting my exploration done now. 

So that's the update. I packed all my crap into the back of my Toyota Corolla and 1169 miles later, here I am. New home. New surroundings. New life. Same dogs. Wish me luck with the job hunt and tune in again for more random ramblings. Hopefully I'll be employed before the philosophical conversations with The Dog start to happen.