It's the Final Countdown

The movers just took my car.  Thursday morning they will whisk away all our earthly possessions.  Next Tuesday I will get on a plane and leave Idaho, probably forever.

I'm pretty stoked about my flight situation.  I'm flying from Spokane to San Francisco, and then from San Francisco to Philadelphia.  I chose this flight configuration partly because it was the cheapest, and partly because, well, why not?  So what if it's an overnight flight - I've never been to California before so I'm hoping my window seat will at least afford me a view of the Golden Gate Bridge as we swoop into San Francisco for my two-hour layover.

Just SEVEN more days.  SEVEN DAYS until my triumphant return to the East Coast.  Oddly enough, now that my days here are numbered, I'm starting to realize that I will miss a few things about this place.  There are certain times of year when it's really beautiful.  The past couple days have been sunny but bitterly cold, and everything is blanketed in snow.  With the view of Moscow Mountain off in the distance, the town kind of feels like a ski resort. 

I will also miss being able to walk almost anywhere I need to go.  My car battery died in November and I couldn't get it fixed for a few weeks because of the snow.  In New Jersey, that would have been a big problem, but here, it just meant I didn't have to go to the laundromat and Andy had to take me to the grocery store.  I honestly never had any reason to drive anywhere else, which was totally cool with me because I love walking.

[Side note - I went to the laundromat yesterday, one last time, for old time's sake.  I have written several posts in the past about the weird things that always seem to happen when I go there, and this trip was no exception.  Certainly not the strangest of events, but still.  It was mid-afternoon and I had had the joint all to myself for a good 45 minutes.  I was talking to my mom on speakerphone and folding laundry like a champ.  Life was good.  Then my revelry was shattered by a chubby teenage boy who walked in, took off his coat, plopped into a chair, and proceeded to read a book.  He was carrying to no laundry, and I knew none of the other machines were in use, so he had no laundry-related business there.  He continued to just sit there and read for about half an hour, until he abruptly put on his coat and left.]

I will also miss the eccentric people of Moscow.  The sheer proportion of characters to unremarkable people is staggering.  I don't know if it's the isolation that molds average people into eccentric ones, of if there is some sort of beacon or homing device that just draws them in from afar.  It's great.  People watching is thoroughly entertaining.  Actually, not gonna lie, people judging is what I do, and it rules. 

Another perk of Idaho that cannot be overlooked is the cost of living.  If I had to be unemployed somewhere, this was the place to do it.  I'm still in awe over how cheap things are here.  Car insurance - about a quarter of what I paid in New Jersey.  Electricity?  Probably half as much because of all the hydroelectric power from dams and the subsidies that go along with that.  Rent - again, a little more than half the price of the average 2-bedroom rental in Jersey.  Food - way cheaper if you shop at the poor people store with the bulk bins; about the same as a standard New Jersey grocery store if you shop at the high-and-mighty natural and organic food store. 

And finally, I will miss the relatively easy access to some fun places to hike when the weather is nice.  Southern New Jersey isn't exactly renowned for its changes in elevation, so the nearby mountains and buttes (tee hee) have been pretty sweet.

Things I won't miss?  Lack of infrastructure and the power outages and road impassibility that go along with it.  Lack of work ethic and the way it makes my blood pressure skyrocket to see lazy people (not) doing jobs that I would like to be doing and could do much more efficiently.  Lack of punctuality.  Plethora of winding mountain roads with sheer drop-offs mere inches beyond the narrow shoulder accompanied by likelihood of falling boulders and terrifying lack of guardrails.  Lack of multi-lane highways.  Lack of pre-1890 history.  Dearth of attractive architecture and overabundance of sea foam green houses, outbuildings, and vehicles (sometimes all on the same property).  Isolation from any places of significance.  Severe aridity and painfully low temperatures that would turn my body into a frozen, dry-rotted suitcase without the intervention of copious amounts of lotion.

I could go on, but I have things to do!

I'll leave you with this: