18 09 2009

Well, it’s been two months now, and although I miss Louisiana deeply, I’ve noticed that Atlanta is starting to feel like home.  Here’s why:

1. My socks don’t match.  You know about the laundry machine monster that eats socks, one at a time, so that you can never find a matching pair?  Well, when it came time to pack up our boxes in Ruston, I somehow managed to find almost all of them again.  But we’ve kicked off our shoes enough times, done the laundry enough times, and avoided doing the laundry enough times, that my socks have started to separate.  Yesterday, I wore a blue-and-white sock on my left foot and a plain white sock on my right (I did the best I could–better than green and purple or something, right?)

2. I survived rush hour. To be more specific, I successfully merged onto I-85 in bumper-to-bumper traffic and then moved over 4 or 5 lanes within half a mile in order to get off at the right exit.  Given my irrational fear of driving on the interstate, I would say this is a huge accomplishment.   In any case, it made me feel invincible for the rest of the day.

3. Our futon is already well-used.  We waited a few weeks before finally breaking down and buying a futon, and we have enjoyed it ever since.  It does need a new mattress, as there are already indentations the places where we sit  It has twice been used by house guests, first by my sister and brother-in-law, and one week later, by one of my very best friends!   And just three evenings ago, I spilled a can of Diet Mountain Dew on it (Note to self: NOT a good idea.  Taking the cover off of a futon mattress is way more trouble than it’s worth).

4. I found an orchestra. When I arrived at the first rehearsal,  I didn’t recognize anyone and didn’t know what to expect.  What if I couldn’t hang with the Atlanta freelancers?  What if they did rehearsals differently?  What if the music threw some curveball that I wasn’t prepared for?  What if “concert black” meant something different here than in Louisiana?  But as we began playing the first song, I felt all my anxieties melt away into a feeling of familiarity.

5.  My planner is full.  I have determined that, to a certain extent, being busy makes me feel fulfilled.  Or at the very least, involved.  Last weekend, between work, orchestra rehearsals, auditions, church services, and teaching commitments, I hardly had time to breathe… and I wouldn’t have it any other way!