We’ve officially been in Texas for about two months now and I’m handling it much better than expected. I sincerely anticipated a week or more’s worth of sobbing in the fetal position eating nothing but pudding and mashed potatoes…
Anyway, that didn’t happen. What is happening though are isolated instances of the above mentioned phenomenon. Last night being one of those instances.
I had a busy day yesterday, well, busy for me. Trey’s mom and sister came to pick me up around 10am Wednesday morning to go to the June meeting of the San Antonio Women’s…well fooey, it’s either Coalition, Company, Club, or some other C word that basically means a group. My mother-in-law, Deb, signed the 3 of us up to sing as the entertainment for this month’s luncheon since it had a Mother-Daughter theme to it. After the luncheon (which went well, I might add…good food, good speaker), I decided it was time to call Yo Yo Ma and fill her in on last week’s babysitting adventure (AKA: Camp Leslie) and the luncheon. We had a great talk…but I could tell she didn’t want to get off the phone. After that I watched Fargo (gotta love William H. Macy) and waited for Trey to get home. I could feel the funkiness creeping up on me by this time, so we went to Whataburger for dinner (dude, there’s no Jack-N-the-Box in sight, but these Whataburger things are everywhere…what I wouldn’t give for an Ultimate Jack with mini churros) and used our 2 free movie passes (yes, we got them from our cat litter points) to go see X-Men: First Class. The movie was excellent (minus January Jones’ complete inability to act). But when we got home my funk was in full swing and I spent the evening in tears, curled up in Trey’s lap, watching How I Met Your Mother in hopes that it would cheer me up.
I guess it’s homesickness. It’s just not behaving the way I thought it would. The way it has in the past when my family moved to a different city. It’s like a new breed of homesickness.