Getting used to it.

Netflix has recently introduced me to a new addiction by the name of ‘Hart of Dixie’. And I feel perhaps a little too on board and emotionally attached with Zoe Hart’s move from the big New York, New York to Bluebell. Although in all reality, my life is nowhere near as complicated as Zoe’s and we don’t have pet alligators named after famous Hollywood actors that roam free here, so I guess you could say the similarities sort of start and stop with moving to a small town.

I’ve been living back at home for almost a month and a half now, and its definitely been a change. Stored away deep in the heart of a sleepy little town, I have never felt so far away from my once considered ‘normality’ where almost everything was on my doorstep. A place where it didn’t take planning to simply pop down to meet someone for coffee there on the spur of the moment, or duck out last minute to buy that fathers day present you completely blanked about. 

It was always a five minute journey to any destination, with the security of knowing if you forgot to grab the champagne from the fridge on your way to a friends engagement party it would only add a couple of minutes to the trip to back-track and pick up the all too important necessity that bubbles are. 

Now, precisely a twenty-five minute drive away from the busy CBD, my days have become far more planned than they ever were. Because once I leave the house, there isn’t the option to ‘quickly pop’ home to change outfits, or fix my hair. That in itself would entail an hour round journey, and a fuel allowance of the wealthy (which I certainly do not have). Instead, I’ve just learnt to pre-empt the day, pack a contingency plan in an overnighter bag and bring an iPhone charger because we all know iPhone’s have a battery life of about five minutes and nobody ever has the right attachment when you need it most (seriously though, Apple – you made it difficult not going with the universal plug-in port).

And simply don’t ask me how I’d go living in actual remote area where trees are your next door neighbour and the distance to the nearest diner is equal to what I’d call a road-trip, because twenty-five minutes out seems to be more than enough remoteness for me at the moment.

Okay so, I may be being a little dramatic – and I can appreciate it being a very #firstworldproblem. But I guess it’s just that being so far away from my old life at the moment, makes me feel a little out of touch. And I miss how easy it was to be a city girl immersed in the bright lights. 

However despite my new location being a little more country than I’m used too, I should admit that I don’t hate it here. In fact, I’ve come to really appreciate it. The fresh air is a good change, a reprieve from a world that seems to never find stillness. And I just know this sleepy little town is somewhere I will always call home in the depths of my heart because the ones I love most are here. 

Besides, it does come with everything it’s sleepy town inhabitants could need, plus one rather popular diner that hands-down makes the best strawberry milkshakes I have ever known. So you’ll know where to find me. 

I’ve even come to enjoy my morning runs far more than I ever did before and I think that has something to do with the quietness of the world here and the ever-blooming gardenias that have always boasted life’s beauty. It’s almost as if I get an extra dopamine hit from the exercise and I actually find myself looking forward to a run in some strange feeling of addiction (record that, I may never feel this way about physical activity again). 

I’ve had time to myself, time to think, and time to plan my next big adventures (I’ll keep you posted on that!)

And similar to Zoe Hart, I’ve realised that it isn’t so bad being away from all hype for a little while. My dreams are wildest here because they have room to grow. So this little temporary small town girl is soaking it up until my house is ready to be my new home (Two more months to go, but who’s counting?).

d x