Woman on the Verge of Paradise: Getting Adapted

Sign reads "May you find Paradise to be all its name implies"

Thanks for joining me on the verge of Paradise, as a new chapter of my life unfolds. If you're new to Life by Chocolate, or just madly trying to catch up with your blog reading (Can we ever truly catch up?), this non-fictional autobiographical story begins here.

While I strive for accuracy regarding place and time, I am altering a few names as I see fit. This does not include Nora Profit, Mimi or Mojo the cat. Those names are perfectly right and perfectly real.  

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Isn't he getting hungry? Doesn't he need to empty his bladder? How can he sleep for so long? It's almost noon. Damnit. It's been 5-1/2 days. I need to get adapted already!

Before the move, I asked Steven if he would kindly help set up my computer when I first arrive. "No problem. You'll just need a USB adapter. We'll have you connected in no time." Within an hour, I tossed a new adapter into the ginormous box that would house my computer.

Now, I wait. It is 12:15pm on my first Saturday in California's true North.

Connections are weird in Paradise. I can't blog or use my cell phone - except as a paperweight. Thus, my first week at The Writing Loft was pleasant, quiet and fairly productive. Nora's taking good care of me, and so is Mimi. Still, I've missed you.

So, I wait. It's 12:20pm, and I'm anxious to catch you up. I want you to know I'm adjusting pretty well so far, minus this adapter-connection thing. The move went smoothly --until I arrived. I'd assumed they'd get to the house first. I was wrong. "That's strange," I told Steven. "I didn't speed too much." He chuckled.

My phone rang ten minutes later. "We'll be there soon. We got pulled over and cited for not having the proper stickers." I didn't know (or want to know) what that meant. I just wanted to see my belongings. Plus, I was paying them by the hour, so any dillydallying (e.g., getting stopped by the cops) didn't bode too well with me.

Fifteen minutes or so later, they pulled into the driveway and proceeded to complete the move fairly quickly. They also deducted the time it took to get cited, plus time "to pick up drinks." I'd given them water, and they appeared well equipped with Snapple when we departed Alameda, so I didn't know (or want to know) about said "drinks."

There were a few casualties, including a scraped up bed frame and a broken glass cover for a shadow box that displayed my Brownie memorabilia. But they were cheap - the items and the movers - and my Branding Bee 1974 badge remained intact, so life continues. Sort of.

I just wish he'd arise already so I can update you, get back into the writing routine, continue creating a home here, and get adapted. 

It's 12:29pm. I'm lounging in apprehensive fashion on my couch.

Hark and hallelujah! Steven just said "Good morning" and offered to help with my computer.

It's 2pm, and I'm connected, with a new virus protection program too.

I sit at my desk in my new bedroom, with the adapter excitedly blinking its pretty little orange beam of light. I imagine that if that orange beam could speak, it'd say "Mellow out, lady. Adapting doesn't happen so quickly around here." Or does it? 

I'm feeling as much at home as I could have imagined, after less than one week on the outskirts of Paradise. And I even ventured out on the town last night...