After three months of working at The Mirror and getting to know McDuffie County, I have taken the plunge.
Last Saturday, my two sons and I moved to Thomson. My thanks goes to Lynne Entrekin and Brock Wilcher of Coldwell Banker Watson and Knox Real Estate for finding us the perfect place to live.
While most of you were enjoying watermelon at Hickory Hill, we were driving down I-20 with a loaded pick-up truck.
I have to confess, we had to look exactly like the Beverly Hillbillies with the bed of our borrowed rusty pick-up overflowing with furniture tied securely with a clothesline. My old wooden rocking chair was even perched on top of the pile. I refused to sit in it, however. I'd rather travel 70 miles per hour down I-20 in the cab of the truck instead of on that rocking chair. (I didn't have that much faith in the clothesline rope from Dollar General.)
The rocking chair is sentimental to me as it was given to me by my husband just prior to the birth of our first son. It now bears many scratches (since the move it has even more) and spots where the finish is worn off.
It sort of looks out of place with my new living room furniture. But this goes along with the "new-move" feeling - mixing the old with the new.
Economically, the move has already proven to be a good one. When I lived in Martinez, it took one-quarter tank of gas to drive to work and back home one day.
After moving here on Saturday, I only had one-quarter tank left, and I'm still using it! With the price of gasoline these days, I feel like I just received a pay raise. And who couldn't use one of those?
It now takes me three minutes to get to work instead of 30. This should allow me to arrive at work earlier, but instead I've been using the extra time by sleeping later. I'm hoping this new fatigue is simply from the rigors of moving, and I'll be back on my regular schedule soon.
I've discovered quite a few "Thomsonites" who are early-risers, and I don't want to miss any interview-opportunities with them.
My boys are looking forward to attending the famous Thomson Bulldog football games on Friday nights. They are both sport enthusiasts, and have caught the "Bulldog fever" from my coworkers here at The Mirror.
I understand I should probably fill the tank of my minivan before we go, because there's a traffic jam heading toward The Brickyard.