I'm so used to things being, you know, just me. Sure, I can go. When do I have plans? I did this, I have this, I, me, moi, etc. The strangest part of moving to Seattle (aside from courteous drivers and the Mariners) may be the adjustment to we. Now, don't worry, my feminist "I am a separate being" yada, yada, will not be compromised, but I will have to actually consult someone else before making some decisions, which I think is freaky. I've been single for, what? Three hundred years? Well, the better part of three decades, anyway. And being in a long-distance relationship doesn't change much of your life at home; when J.R. is here, J.R. is here and no, I'm not free. When he's gone, my single life resumes apace (well, except for the dating other people part).
So, while finding a new job and finding a bar full of Red Sox fans are important goals, I'm also working on the whole "live with someone who is not Jen and who may or may not expect coherent sentences at the end of the day." Also, I'm going to miss my step-dog.
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