The longest 14 days

They begin tomorrow. Well, I suppose they have already begun. Tomorrow, the last day of March, which is an odd month. I had to agree with a classmate this morning as he contemplated March.

“It’s a weird month,” he said, stroking his magnificent beard. “I always find that life throws big changes at me in March. New job, or I get injured, or something massive happens. I’ll be glad when it’s out of the way.”

“Me too,” I said. Actually that’s a lie. I said, “Ahahaha, beware the ides of March.” But he didn’t seem to get it, so I had to drink my tea and be embarrassed for a second and hope that he forgot all about how socially awkward I can be.

April is the month of my birth, so I always like April. This year, April is also the month when I get to return to my homeland for a few days, where I intend to eat curry, Branston Pickle, and have a solid Sunday roast. Not all at once. That would be awful and strange.

I’m going to spill the beans, I just can’t hold back any longer.

April is the month when we will move in to our new home. This time it isn’t a friend’s RV. It isn’t a friend’s basement. It isn’t a tumbledown trailer house rental property. It’s a real house, sitting on a real foundation, nestled into eleven acres. In fourteen days, we will sign the papers to become the owners of this little snippet of splendour. Cowboy and I. Homeowners. How thoroughly grown up.

We are unbelievably lucky to be in a position to do what we are about to do. Whatever higher powers are out there, they are paying us back for all of the shit that we’ve endured.

In that vein, there are two weeks of shit to endure, still. I am fully booked at school, rehashing a lot of the material that we covered at physio school in London, but it’s important for me to get a handle on the scope of practice that I’ll be operating in here. This weekend, Cowboy will be working down in Yelm, where he handles the cows for the Westside Team Penning Club at their monthly competitions. He has to borrow my horse so that his helper has something to ride. I get to stay at home and start packing.

Then the following weekend, he is planning to leave for Montana to fetch some things that will help us at our new home. It means I will probably only see him for a few hours this Thursday and Friday, and then not again until the Monday afternoon before the move. It could be worse. I can eat girl food as much as I like with him gone, which means no beef for a long time, and Sir Richard and I can snuggle without judgement.

“It’s not like we’re not going to see each other again for six months,” Cowboy said stoically. I mumbled something grumpy and moody in response. He’s right, we are over the worst of it. Our days of living long distance are behind us. It doesn’t stop me feeling thoroughly bummed about it.

I bought this t-shirt in Target today to cheer myself up.I made an impulse t-shirt purchase today. I couldn't help it.

I may need such motivational words to get me through the next fortnight. Incidentally, “fortnight” isn’t really a word here in America. I never thought I’d have to explain that one, but life is full of surprises that way.

Plaid. Yes, plaid.

I’m half way through my second week back at school down in Seattle. This is the downhill stretch, the final 20 weeks (18.5 now) to graduation and licensure. And that means a job! After so many years trying to further my education, the prospect of an income is very exciting.

With school comes the new life routine. Cowboy and I are back to a certain distance for part of the week – Monday to Thursday afternoon, I am some two hours away in the city while he stays at home with the critters. I’ve explored Seattle a little more this trip, by which I mean I took a few wrong turns when trying to get around and learned about some new streets. I took a trip to Seattle’s REI shop, which was an epic expedition in itself. The shopfront is surrounded by an urban forest, complete with bike trails and waterfalls. It was unexpected!

Also unexpected was the clearance bargain I got on a Montana-inspired insulated coat in a red plaid print. Yes, I said plaid (pronounced “plad” if you are British and not sure how to go about such a word). Don’t judge me. I ride horses in the cold and apparently plaid looks sort of adorable on me. I’m embracing it.

I fully intend to break it in this weekend, which I will be spending on horseback, learning how to chase cows with rather more finesse and skill than I have now.

I’ve used my hotel room time to get ahead of the game on my online course homework, to pay all the bills, and to become unhealthily obsessed with the home improvement channel. I can’t help myself. I have such a large urge to nest.

Shortly, I will change to the inaccurately named “The Learning Channel”. TLC seems to specialise in the most guilty of my guilty pleasures – tv shows about extreme weight loss, dysfunctional families and plastic surgery. Shows where people cry in front of healthcare professionals and say they just can’t do it any more, and then proceed to do it anyway.

Cowboy and I are about to take the plunge into something that I can’t quite talk about yet, but oh my goodness, it is so exciting, I can barely contain myself, and trying to keep a lid on my excitement and be logical and calm about things is quite the challenge. Just keep your fingers crossed for me, please!