Settling in

So where were we? Ah, yes, I left you with maggots.

I'm happy to report that the maggots were the lowest part of this new adventure, at least so far. I've really come clean with most of the unpleasantness of my relocation.

There were a few other unwanted surprises, such as no outside lights on arrival, and no recycling cans, and well, this is how I was getting my mail out.

What da?

But my contact at the rental company has been amazing. I called her straight away about the lack of outside lights and they were fixed within 48 hours. (I may have mentioned the possibility of my babies slipping and falling and getting hurt in the less-than-satisfactory lighting, but hey, it worked -- we were quickly lit up.) Three new, clean, maggot-free recycling bins have also been delivered; and even though she told me she wasn't sure what could be done about the mailbox, a shiny new unit has been installed. Okay, so it may have required everyone in the building having their mail held at the post office for a few days, and the dispersal of new keys for all,  but it's brand new and works well.

Clearly I'm whipping my rental into shape, and have even adapted to hearing the fraternities toilets flush and off-hours comings and goings. The early morning planes no longer even register. I do still dislike the alley, but, like anything, I'm getting used to it, so it no longer throws me into a mini-depression with each visit. The hovering helicopters are quite rare, and I'm adapting to the crappy parking scene.

And, well, there are so many awesome things about our new location. Enough things certainly, to make this beach interlude completely worth it.

There are llamas to ride on Wednesdays,

our 'front yard' to admire every day of the week, as well as sunsets every night.

I have a feisty, fun new roommate, a gorgeous new bed, can walk to my kids' bus-stop and softball field and tutor and orthodontist and to my dentist and hair stylist and  favorite yoga studio as well as to myriad bars and restaurants, plus,

to the best dang night parade you ever will see, which happens each December.

I can hear the ocean from my bed each night, the seals barking on occasion, and the forlorn fog horn whenever the wet, low clouds roll in. It might be a step back in some regards, but it's an ocean-loving, walking girl's dream, and we are all soaking it up for all it's worth.