Visit to McAllen, Part 2

From another email to the girlfriends about the South Texas visit:

On the whole, I'm feeling a lot more optimistic about the move and about South Texas. Coming from Los Angeles, I always assume that other places are going to be large and as confusing to navigate and I'm always surprised when they're not. I'm not stressing about the move as much as I am about the ten zillion things that have to fall into place before the wedding and move.

Now that Mike and I have taken 2 weekend trips back to back and been around each other 24/7, we have learned this: 1) I need food and water at regular intervals or else I get Ubercrabby and I end up apologizing for my behavior, snappishness, etc. 2) It would help if he's more specific in describing his/our travel plans/day plans. 3) In the immortal words of Chicago, "Everybody needs a little time away from each ooooother."

For example, we were printing out rental listings in the hotel's business office. It's after 1:30 pm; we've slept in and are finally getting around to trying to line up a place for him (and possibly me?) to live. I ask Mike how he wants to go about seeing some of the rentals. He says "We'll just print out a bunch of listings and drive around to look at them." I said we should look through the listings more carefully and only print out the ones that met his/our needs. (I have a cat, so let's not bother with properties that say NO PETS). And we should figure out which rentals are near each other so we're not driving all over the Rio effing Grande Valley.

Meanwhile, we've used all the paper in the printer and we're having to print on the backside of the unsuitable rentals he's already printed out. I'm not clear on his plan. Mike says of course he has a plan and wants to approach this efficiently; why am I mad and making assumptions? By this time, I am mad and hungry and frustrated. The only info I have is what he said. If the plan is more detailed in his head, then he needs to communicate what those details are.

I tell him he fights like a professor. (I mean, he IS a professor, but when we were bickering, his approach reminded me of those obnoxious, cocksure law school-bound guys who turned up in my English classes who would derail the whole discussion because they wanted to know if [female writer/poet] was a lesbian). In Mike's favor, he does stop everything and listen to me when it's clear I'm upset about something. Then I try to explain clearly what I'm upset about.

We sit there giving each other the stink eye in the lame beige hotel business office. I spell it out: I'm hungry, this Texas thing is still a little scary for me, I'm stressed out, and we need to get going if we're going to accomplish anything today. He decides he needs to feed me. I suggest we pick up sushi at the gourmet HEB and have real dinner after we've checked out some rentals. He prints out a few more listings and hands them to me to find on the map and group together based on what part of town they're in. First fight wraps up with everyone a little dusty but understanding each other better than before.

Thus I come down from the newly-in-love high to the flat planes of "Feed me or I turn into a bitch" and "Don't you get online after telling me we need to hurry up and leave."

I guess part of my frustration is that I'm kinda looking forward to a fresh start somewhere new (even though I'm apprehensive about it, too). I get to leave my comfortable rut and do something new--school, work, play, marriage, kids. I'm looking forward to leaving behind my dysfunctional work environment, gossipy co-workers, my butt-head landlord, smog, and singleness. It would be nice to have a better idea when this fresh start is going to get underway. Y'all know how naturally patient I am about these things.