What moving across the country for the second time in a year means to me



Yes, I am moving back to the state I was so happy to move away from eight months ago when I got the job which allowed it. No, I did not fail. Neither my boyfriend nor I failed at anything while in Oregon, except finding jobs in better areas that would allow us to stay here. The thing about Tillamook–the county to which we moved–is that it mainly consists of people who have family here, or who are looking to slow down after retirement. This makes it difficult for two people looking to have careers full of any growth whatsoever (a.k.a. my boyfriend and I). So, long story short, after deciding we’d want to settle down near our immediate families anyway, we found wonderful–and I do mean wonderful–jobs closer to the end of Pennsylvania where I grew up.

I am over the moon about the opportunity to return home to both our families and promising careers, however, moving back across the country for the second time in a year has presented about 128,785,436,435,960,596 more challenges than the first time we made the trip.

1. Everything went wrong that could go wrong; shipping our additional car involves Russians who like to sleep (long story), things cost money, our pets’ heads are falling off, etc.


2. We’re traveling on Thanksgiving and Thanksgiving weekend, by car. And since God or Warren Buffett or whoever has decided to take a big white dump on everyone earlier and earlier every year, we’re facing driving home in another Polar Vortex. As if Wyoming didn’t already suck.


3. We only found a place to live a week before we’re set to leave. Do you know what it’s like, having a job, having the whole world open to you, but not knowing if the world has a Pennsylvanian roof for me and my boyfriend at a reasonable (journalist) price? I should hope you do not. It’s nothing short of adorable. Did you catch the sarcasm there? And, of course, finding a place in the county we’re moving to that’s within our budget and doesn’t have a shooting every other hot second was another fun hoop to jump through.


4. You cannot do anything on a journalist’s budget with two dogs.  One dog–eh, sure. Two dogs–holy God with a side of crackers, you are screwed. Flying home? Nope, you’re going to pay more for your dogs to fly than Beyonce does for a private jet. A train? Good luck asking the conductor to pull the train over because one of your dogs looks like she has to poop. We’ve tried to tell the dogs how much pain they’ve caused us. We just ended up giving them kisses and contemplating getting a third one.


5. We’re worried we’ve accumulated more than a mid-size sedan’s worth of belongings. We were only allowed to put 100 pounds in the car we shipped, and how in Sam Hill do you know what 100 pounds looks like when you’re just trying to throw part of your life in a back seat? 100 pounds is nothing. It’s a 12-year-old. We own a 35-year-old Sumo wrestler in training. But then there’s still another car to put things in, and the thought of trying to get everything we own in there without a professional organizer is simply madness.


But yes, we are very lucky to have this opportunity and grateful that we can finally get started with the life we’ve wanted. We’ll just be happy when this is all over.