Five days a week, I drive east 45 minutes (from my driveway to my desk) to get to work. The only advantage is that all traffic is heading in the other direction, into town, while I'm heading out. I've been doing this for nearly two years, and in the beginning, it meant some major adjustments.
Waking up earlier.
No more lunching with friends.
No more running errands on my lunch break.
Nearly an additional two hours added to my work day just from my commute.
All the "tending" that comes along with life has to be done on the weekends.
It's a good job, so that's the compromise I made. Plus, if I lived in a larger city, I would be doing this anyway. That's my pathetic attempt at a justification. But in the beginning, I experienced major culture shock. It may be just 45 minutes down the road, but someone might as well have dropped me in a foreign country.
See, this is a small town. Although my company is the largest employer in its parish, this town is very small. And I am not a small town girl. I've always thought small-town living seemed to have its charms on television shows and movies, but knew I couldn't thrive in that environment if it were reality. I like shopping, having options and sushi.
But, in a way, it has become my reality. At least from 8 to 5 each weekday. For the past two years, I haven't experienced much this town has to offer. If I eat out, it's either Subway or a Wendy's salads. ... and I don't think I can sustain that for another year. So I thought it was only fair to give this small town a shot.
I'll be trying local restaurants and shops in an attempt to experience what small town living has to offer. Not to mention all the interesting things that I'll probably stumble upon for free.
It's time to broaden my horizons. I figure it would be a shame to work here all this time and never experience the good things this town probably has to offer. Each week, I'll be blogging a new experience.
Maybe we'll soon find out that good things really do come in small packages.
I'm a former journalist turned marketer of concrete. I still type a lot. Other than that, I'm married to an oilman, the owner of a mini-schnauzer named Baxter and a lab named Lacy, chef to anyone with an appetite and a connoisseur of $10 wines.