SMALL TOWN LIVING
There are things I just absolutely LOVED about living in a small town. And then ... there were other things I just hated about living in a small town.
For instance, working in the town in which I had grown up and lived gave me some street cred where my school families were concerned, and in that particular district, street cred was like gold! However, I hated going to the grocery store, seeing a parent, and have them A.) want to talk about their kid's progress (or lack thereof) while I'm trying to buy wine and cheese ... OR B.) have them size up the items in my cart like, "oohhhhh Miss Murray's got five bottles of wine in her cart -- girl's got a drinking problem." Not that I EVER had five bottles of wine in my shopping cart, unless of course, you count the time I had the Wine and Cheese themed party ...
Yesterday, I hit upon another reason to be happy I grew up and lived in a small town. My truck payment goes to the local credit union "back home." I was paid about the same time that I had my surgery, and while I knew that I had to get that payment out, I guess I just thought that I was in possession of a magic pen that would just magically write the check for me, and then mail it! Imagine!
So, there I was yesterday, realizing that "oh my gosh!!! My truck payment is due Friday," and knowing that sometimes, in cases such as these, my mail tends to go by way of Borneo or some such place, I called the credit union, hoping upon hope that Debbie, the manager of that branch, was still there working.
"Debbie? This is Megan Murray .... do you remember me?"
She laughed as she informed me that, of course, she remembered me, for heaven's sake, and before I knew it, I was reassured that my payment would arrive on Friday, and even if it didn't, they wouldn't flag it for weeks and weeks as being overdue.
You soooooo wouldn't get that treatment anywhere else other than a small town, that's all I'm saying ... plus, you know, I'm David and Jan's kid ... you know the one .... they lived over there on that one street, in the house with the gray shutters that sort of turned blue after 10 harsh, Michigan winters .... you know the kid? The one that used to talk to imaginary "friends?" Remember? They had that dog they had to tranquilize every time there was a storm? That family?
For instance, working in the town in which I had grown up and lived gave me some street cred where my school families were concerned, and in that particular district, street cred was like gold! However, I hated going to the grocery store, seeing a parent, and have them A.) want to talk about their kid's progress (or lack thereof) while I'm trying to buy wine and cheese ... OR B.) have them size up the items in my cart like, "oohhhhh Miss Murray's got five bottles of wine in her cart -- girl's got a drinking problem." Not that I EVER had five bottles of wine in my shopping cart, unless of course, you count the time I had the Wine and Cheese themed party ...
Yesterday, I hit upon another reason to be happy I grew up and lived in a small town. My truck payment goes to the local credit union "back home." I was paid about the same time that I had my surgery, and while I knew that I had to get that payment out, I guess I just thought that I was in possession of a magic pen that would just magically write the check for me, and then mail it! Imagine!
So, there I was yesterday, realizing that "oh my gosh!!! My truck payment is due Friday," and knowing that sometimes, in cases such as these, my mail tends to go by way of Borneo or some such place, I called the credit union, hoping upon hope that Debbie, the manager of that branch, was still there working.
"Debbie? This is Megan Murray .... do you remember me?"
She laughed as she informed me that, of course, she remembered me, for heaven's sake, and before I knew it, I was reassured that my payment would arrive on Friday, and even if it didn't, they wouldn't flag it for weeks and weeks as being overdue.
You soooooo wouldn't get that treatment anywhere else other than a small town, that's all I'm saying ... plus, you know, I'm David and Jan's kid ... you know the one .... they lived over there on that one street, in the house with the gray shutters that sort of turned blue after 10 harsh, Michigan winters .... you know the kid? The one that used to talk to imaginary "friends?" Remember? They had that dog they had to tranquilize every time there was a storm? That family?
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