I think I’m turning into Carrie Bradshaw.
One of the things I need to figure out is the compatibility of UK appliances in the US. Alex wants to bring some things out with us. We’ve heard that you can get some converters that allow you to use your gadgets out there, but we’ve not got round to finding out.
Instead I’ve found my mind wandering, questioning our own compatibility over there, how or if we’ll ever fit in, how long it will take us to find our feet, etc. It’s amazing how easy it is to take the most boring tasks on your to-do list and turn them into a profound, symbolic representation of your state of being. That, right there, is why I don’t get shit done.
Everyone we’ve told about our move asks us how long we’ll be there. But it’s much harder when our closest family and friends ask, because it’s a loaded question. We feel accountable for taking away their friends, kids, siblings and grandchildren. We feel bad so it puts us on the defence. Instinctively we want to say something comforting, but at the same time we don’t want to water down how excited we are about going.
The short answer is: we don’t know. Will we be there just a few years? 10? Forever?
I can’t help but wonder.