All the boxes have been moved in. Maybe a third of them have been emptied. Just like me, their contents have found a new home. The cat is slowly adjusting. She’s found a new favorite window. North Carolina squirrels seem to be just as pleasing to the feline eye as the Florida ones. The cops haven’t been here in at least a day and a half. Life is going fairly well.
Traffic is so bad here my husband sometimes has to leave for work before the sun rises. This is the first morning since I’ve been here that I rose with him and I’ve got to tell you it sucks. I’m a morning person, but within reasonable limits. I’m not trying to be like Martha Stewart, waking up at four in the morning, baking a loaf of sourdough and playing the stock market while starching and ironing my army of button down oxfords. I’m not that eager.
So, here I sit. The cat’s been fed. The husband’s at work. The kid’s still asleep. I’ve said my prayers. I’m on my second cup of tea and it’s not even 9 am. I cannot unpack any more boxes, just outright refuse to do it. I’m on strike. We’ll just have to live around them from now on. So, what’s a bored Floridian in North Carolina supposed to do?
If you said, read the local news and laugh your ass off, you win a damn prize because that’s what I did. First, let me give you a little education in Florida news. Well, to begin with, you have the Floriduh news, the kind of news you read and immediately say to yourself, that HAD to have happened in Florida. Such as: