In November when my beau and I discussed moving in together, I think I very rationally said something to the effect of: "Over my dead body will I move to your house. I love my condo." And, well, about two months later I was packing 7 boxes at a time into my Mini Cooper and moving out of my condo. And I wasn't dead. Didn't even have in my possession a dead body that wasn't my own. Slowly but surely I found that while my condo was perfect for me, this place has a lot more to offer--and is perfect for us. One of those things is an entire neighborhood with streets lined with Crape Myrtles. And they are blooming right now. I'm not sure there is anything more lovely than a day like today--sunny, 78 degrees, slight breeze and Crape Myrtles in bloom as far as the eye can see. Pretty much it was a perfect day. And every time the breeze blew, some of those magnificent pink petals would float down to the sidewalk. It was kind of like something you'd see in a sappy movie. But I was seeing it in real life. My life. Gosh, life is good.
Look, I'm not making this up:
That's my white picket fence. (Oh how quickly I become proprietary.) And that is what I see when I sit outside in my little oasis. (Post on that coming soon...) Or when I take an evening bike ride through my neighborhood I am nearly covered in a Crape Myrtle canopy in some areas of the neighborhood. How lovely.
See, I told you it is much like Pleasantville. Only better. It is home.
Has anyone else out there been dumb enough to try to do the majority of her moving in a Mini Cooper? Anyone else feel like they life in a disgustingly perfect place? Are you sickeningly in love with your life, too? (Feels good, doesn't it?)