Ugh.
Just, ugh.
Apparently I’m not really cut out for small town life. Don’t
get me wrong, despite all the scorpions, wasps, invading crickets, crazy
neighbors, and driving for hours to get to absolutely anywhere, I do like
living out in the middle of nowhere. It’s quiet here. We don’t have constant
road noise (including a fire truck every 15 minutes) like we did in Temecula.
We don’t have the constant hum of neighboring air conditioners year round and
zero privacy that we did in Leander. It’s nice. I just wish our local little
town wasn’t steeped in… honestly, I don’t know if it is the town or just me. I’m
apparently not cut out for whatever it is, though.
I can’t deal with big cities because they’re too loud and
crowded and big crowds make me screamy and stabby.
I really don’t like the suburbs because having people live
that close to me feels crowded and it always turns into a Stepford Wives
nightmare and that makes me screamy and stabby.
As it turns out, I can’t deal with small town slowness,
everyone knows everyone so they don’t take the time to introduce anyone and
directions are by way of Jim’s. You know Jim! Everyone knows Jim. You don’t
know Jim? Oh, well, heck. Anyway, turn left at Jim’s place, but not his current
one, the one he lived in before. <Sigh>
I’m a woman without a country. Apparently, I’m just not cut
out for human interaction.
One of the things about living out here in the middle of
nowhere that is rather irritating is the postal service. And I know, the postal
service is always irritating, but our local takes it to a whole new level.
Since we’re on the “rural” delivery, anytime we get anything delivered that’s
bigger than a postage stamp, we have to go into town to collect it. So Friday
we get one of those all too familiar orange pick up cards. It says we can pick
up our item on Saturday between 10am and 12pm. Well, thanks for the ultimate convenient
hours! Unfortunately, we already had plans and couldn’t get there, even with
that huge window of opportunity. And of course, they’re closed on Sunday.
No biggie, I had to go into town to deal with prescriptions
that got messed up, too (but that’s a different rant). So I stopped by the post
office. No one there, it’s all locked up. No sign about why or when they’d be
open. I stood there for a moment wondering if I should hang out for a few
minutes or just go. I decided to just go. It wasn’t until I was about halfway
home that I realized today is Rape, Pillage, and Murder a Native Day! Some
people call it Columbus Day, but I think that’s a misnomer. I mean, why would
we celebrate an asshole Italian working for Spaniards who never set foot on US
soil? And it’s understandable that I
would forget that it’s a Federal Holiday since all us plebs are still expected
to work. Heck, I haven’t even seen a single Rape, Pillage, and Murder a Native
Sale this year. I guess it wasn’t selling mattresses as effectively as it had
in the past.
Ugh. But this means I have to go back into town tomorrow. I
don’t want to go back into town tomorrow! Nobody seems to understand the
concept of a car, and driving, and not being annoying. Actually, even worse, I
have to go into Fredericksburg as well since our super market doesn’t have most
of the things I need. Every time I drive through Fredericksburg, I almost die
because people are just the worst and that makes me very screamy and stabby.
So on this festive Rape, Pillage, and Murder a Native Day,
be a bad pleb and take the afternoon off. And when you’re out driving, use your
signals, check your blindspot, and do the speed limit. And remember, if you can’t
do the speed limit because driving faster than a butterfly on downers is too
scary, safely pull to the side of the road and allow other vehicles to pass. It
will make for a significantly less screamy stabby world.
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