What goes up must come down….
or so they say. It’s inevitable…you move to a new city and it happens every time. Finding yourself on that downward slope after the oh-so-fun journey to the summit. It’s here, my friends…
The Three Month Mark. I was hoping that it wouldn’t find me this time around.
A new country, culture, strange salad bar items, sunrise at 4:30am, need Dryel…no one’s heard of Dryel, American hairdryer shoots out flames, dies, two midget ice cubes per drink
(is anyone else here a champion ice chewer?). I think it’s just time for some good ol’ familiarity and comfort…I really don’t mind the European ice shortage.
I specifically remember
The Three Month Mark after every move. What I was thinking, Who I turned to for a shoulder to cry on, but mostly…how fast those thoughts came and went.
Just to paint you a picture, here’s what my
The Month Mark: England Edition looked like:
It’s Monday morning. I do
not feel like walking to work. I get dressed, look in the mirror and think,
wow…someone needs a makeover…and I set off. Arrive. Check my email. Remember that today is the day I have my new hire orientation at the Hallmark site
on Dawson Lane…30 min away. I call a cab. The cab is parked in front of the building. I, on the other hand, am waiting outside of the gate. I call the cab company. The cabman tells me that he has been there for 15 minutes. I get in the cab…which is a
NEON BLUE mini van that smells of
dung. I look out the window…and this is when I begin to miss my Maxima…and my friends…and my family…and Starbucks. A little tear-let slowly begins to fall down my left cheek. This is when I realize that I’m exactly where I want to be right now in my life. I smile, disregard the tear…and blame it on the interior smell of the taxi.
