Life in Slow Motion

My rant:

Why does everything in this town have to take three times as long as it does anywhere else in the world? Why does every local here think it’s ok to talk to the cashier/pharmacist/bank teller for 20 minutes, when there is a line a mile long, and you are trying to get back to the apartment before your son needs to be fed? Why is every car on the road occupied by a Sunday Driver?

There are days during which I strongly dislike living in such a small town. Everyone knows each other. They all talk to each other in their slow southern drawls about the most mundane subject matter, during the most inappropriate times, such as in line at the post office, in line at the grocery store, in line at the pharmacy. Are you noticing a theme?

I went out this morning while the little tambourine was playing with Mr. Tambourine, and what should have only taken about 30 minutes ended up taking an hour longer. Unbelievable. By the fourth line I was very close to saying something, although, I didn’t, because I do not like conflict.

I think one thing that bothers me so much about the whole situation is that all the locals expect the same conversational behavior from me. They expect me to chat up the cashiers while checking out. There have been times when I’ve been sucked into their warped little world, but today was just not one of those days. I could feel the eyes in the back of my skull as I made my way out of the grocery store/post office/pharmacy/bank, and their judgmental thoughts rang quite loudly: She thinks she’s too good to talk to us.

Well, NO, not on a regular basis, I don’t think I’m too good to talk to you. However, if I did think that it certainly would not be too far from the truth. The only people of intelligence who live in this town are the law students. All the smart people leave town after they graduate from highschool, and never look back. What’s left is a population of barely highschool graduates who have no concept of the outside world. They all live in this closed off community, choosing not to leave or experience anything outside of the town limits.

I’d like to think that I’m an open minded person, but on days like today, when I feel like I’m being judged because I’m an “outsider”, I look at these people and I want nothing more than to tell them how truly ignorant and close minded they truly are.

But that’s just me.


The joys of old aparment living.

If there is one more morning when I wake up, try to vacuum, and subsequently blow a fuse, I may scream. Because, here’s the thing, my landlords are native town folks (as in they’ve lived in this tiny town their entire lives, not that they are native american) and the do things very very VERY slowly. It takes about 3 phone calls and a couple of trips to their store, where they proceed to talk about the weather for 30 minutes, before anything is ever fixed. Mr. Tambourine has actually learned how to fix light switches (and I suppose will now learn how to change a fuse) in order to avoid the need to speak with our landlords.

The problem is, we live in an aparment that was built in the 40’s. Instead of having a big renovation to update the entire aparment, my landlord’s approach is to just fix things as they happen, which wouldn’t be a problem, if things didn’t go wrong EVERY SINGLE DAY! I may be exaggerating a bit, but since we moved in a year and a half ago we’ve had numerous fuses blow, and have to be replaced, an oven that had to be replaced, a washer that has had to be replaced, lightswitches that have gone haywire, baseboard heating that has stopped working, and now our roof is leaking. I am slightly apprehensive to even bring up the roof problem with the landlords because I am sure, if they choose to replace the roof, it will take forever, and I’m not sure if I have it in me to go without a roof for the time being.

You may be wondering why I remain in that apartment. As much as I complain it’s a HUGE apartment, and is very reasonably priced. Other landlords in the area have taken advantage of the fact that the law students here need a place to stay, and because it’s such a small town, our options are limited. This results in increased prices for incredibly tiny TINY apartments. I’ve honestly seen a house that is roughly 1,500 square feet be converted into 4 apartments. My apartment is around 1,500 square feet alone. It also came furnished, has it’s own washer and dryer, and is very close to my school. These were all important things I was looking for when apartment hunting two summers ago. As frustrating as it is to have things go wrong, I cannot justify moving the little Tambourine, Mr. Tambourine, and myself to a much smaller apartment where we’d have to purchase all new furniture, only because I don’t want to deal with landlords. As it is the adults have a bedroom, the little Tambourine has a bedroom AND a playroom, we have an office, a living room, a kitchen and a decent sized bathroom. It’s more than we need, but now that we’ve gotten used to it, we’ve become spoiled.

For now it is better for us to continue on then it is to move. We’re only here for another year and a half. As long as nothing major goes wrong, I suppose we can deal with it.

A little fall of rain…

Some days are better than others.

Some days Mr. Tambourine is helpful and friendly. Some days little tambourine is the epitome of a happy baby. Some days classes go quickly and are thoroughly interesting. Some days I don’t mind living in a tiny town.

Today was not one of those days.

Today Mr. Tambourine was sick. Today little tambourine was teething like no other. Today my classes felt like they were 10 hours long. Today, all I wanted to do was take a coffee break at Starbucks.

The closest Starbucks to me is 3 hours away.

Today was not one of those days.