It might be a good time to start writing again. Most of you knew what Boston was like, and as much as some people really love the city ( I know, I was one of them), it was a place most people I know were already familiar with.

I ended that on a preposition because it felt good.

Fayetteville is pretty much exactly what I expected. It's beautiful, and a little overgrown, and a little bigger than it ought to be, and it feels like a good place to make a home.

Our apartment doesn't have anywhere near the character of our last one, but it's big enough, and clean, and in a pleasant neighborhood. Basically, it's got a working washer and dryer and (now) working air conditioning, and it's half the price for twice the space.

Greg and I have been running around a lot, and trying to do so many things at once. He's working from home, so we get to spend even more time together. It's nice. It's much better than being behind a desk with the damn phone ringing all day.

Cicadas sound like a gas stove that won't turn on right. I told that to Greg today. It's true. Also, they're huge. Oh, I miss my gas stove! Stupid little things.

Maybe you won't believe me when I tell you how nice it is here. The dirt is red. It has a lot more clay in it than they have in Massachusetts. There are so many hills in town that it's a little difficult to get to the street where everything happens, but it is worth it once you get down there.

In town, there is a bar with dueling pianos. I've yet to go there. My favorite bar so far has been an Irish pub called The Crown (yes, I know, it is weird), where the owner started hugging me after about five minutes of conversation.

They have Thai food here and it's spicier than almost anything (maybe not those habanero poppers or the vindaloo I had in Exeter).

There is a farmers' market on the town square, and everyone brings their dogs. Ricky is having a tough time adjusting. He's so used to being alone a lot of the time that the sudden increase in access to us has him shaking every time we reach for our keys. Poor boy. I love him.

I promise I will update more often. I know you won't believe me and you'll think I am stuck in some unrecorded circle of hell.

It's lovely.