Not welcome. Not home.

Do you ever get the feeling somebody, or at least something is trying to tell you something? If you don't - let me clarify.

The something in our case is life. Or America. It's one of the two, and neither one of them seems to want us here. Ever since our wedding in April (the last spectacularly good thing to happen to us (besides a great trip to Dublin) things have gone exceptionally wrong.

Life hasn't even given us a honeymoon period. We have been flung sideways into chaos and mayhem. After spending three years in the stress and worry that is involved with being in not only a long distance relationship, but a transatlantic one - you'd think things would get easier once we closed that distance.

Has it heck! Only now, we can stress about stuff in Each other's physical presence, rather than virtual. But the stresses are coming thicker and faster.

Things come in threes allegedly. Well we seem to be taking sets of three for a lot more people than are in our family. Unless I'm pregnant with sextuplets ( I shouldn't really jest, I think we are waiting for thing number three, Mach ten right now), then we shouldn't really be having this much shit happen.

So we arrived April 30th, ready to begin our new adventure. Nothing much happened in the couple of weeks after that, apart from me randomly bursting into tears on minor road trips, and generally missing people that I could have a conversation with, or escape normality with for a while.

These minor road trips were house hunting, as TH's company had decided to relocate. That's the first thing. When we first planned for me to come, there was no company move on the cards. We had to move, or it would cost five grand a year, and three hours a day just for him to do his job. So, we moved too - closer to his new workplace; to a smaller, older house that cost a thousand dollars more than the gorgeous modern town home we had been living in.

This isn't our first choice of house though. The way the renters market is here is seriously crap. You don't put a deposit down to "hold" the house. You have to apply. We applied for a really nice family split level ranch (bungalow), and were successful. Great! Unfortunately, the family that were living in the house had their house purchase fall through - so renewed their tenancy, and we had to find somewhere else.

Sick of house hunting, we saw our current house on our last hunting trip, and it was chosen in a toss up with another house - that was situated on a hill. The hill house would have been better, given what happened to this one right after we moved in - but there was something else between to go wrong.

On the way to this forsaken hole house (which I used to really like) for a walk through inspection, TH got pulled over for going the same speed as everybody else on the interstate. Apparently that was 27 miles per hour over the limit, and in a construction zone where the limit was 45. The police officer was a dick and slammed a $1500 fine and a court date on TH's ticket, and would mean fretting for the next month about that.

In the end, he got it reduced and off lightly, but it still wasn't great. Then when we were moved in, unpacked and his parents had just arrived, freak storms made our house flood with eight inches of raw sewerage. Luckily not many of our possessions were damaged, but the building site the house has been for the last two months really has not been fun, especially when you have a little guy with autism, to distract from the work going on around him.

The house is finally "sorted" and has been kitted out with flood "defenses". I say that loosely because I found a puddle in the utility room yesterday following a freak storm.

God, the storms. Why is the weather so god damn determined to put me in an early grave? First the weather damaged our basement, then there are immense thunderstorms so terrifying that I can barely move, but happen when I need to go somewhere. I hate them. But there's no getting away from them. The climate is too hot, and so the storms come. The weather alone makes me want to go home.

The freak storm that came through yesterday brought wind and rain like I have never seen! I made Mini Madam move away from the windows, while I was glued to my seat panicking about getting Mini Man off his school bus which was due any minute. I called his school to see if his bus had left, and thankfully they were keeping the children inside until the storm had passed.

The storm didn't have much thunder to it, but the winds were making the trees right outside bend. Though it lasted only a short while, it had uprooted trees in neighboring towns, knocked down a couple of buildings that were under construction, and killed a well known Chicago actress while she was riding her bike with her husband.

We weren't harmed, so how did this storm affect us, and my feelings about being here? The debris from the storm. Fallen branches were littering the road, and had mostly been cleared away, but this afternoon an almighty crunching sound was heard as we were two houses away from our drive on our return from a shopping trip.

I asked TH what it was, and he said he had driven over a fallen branch - no big deal. Well I wish I had thought to take a picture when I got out the car. There was part of a tree jutting out the side of the rear of the car. The branch that was at least five inches in diameter had penetrated through our rear bumper, and got stuck. We finally got it out, but the bumper is damaged and will need fixing. We only just got the car back following an issue with the fluid levels for the power steering.

Oh, and while the car was being mended for that, TH lost the key to the loan car the garage had given him, when his case got torn open on a baggage carousel at an Oakland airport. Fecking business trips!

Between all of this and the vaccination debacle I had with the children and their schools, I am ready to give up and go home. I think about it every moment - just what it would be to say fuck this shit, and get on a plane. I could. After an afternoon last week spent in floods of uncontrollable tears, I asked TH about the possibility of cutting this "initial" two year period short to just one, and getting out of here when this tenancy ends.

At this point I don't care what people would say about me being selfish enough to make him quit his job for me. They don't know what it's like here; to have no friends even though I'm trying to make them. To wish I had never agreed to come in the first place, and to feel guilty for putting this pressure on him. I moved four thousand miles for him, yet people will think I'm selfish to want to go back.

I'm tired of things going wrong. I know it wouldn't all be sunshine and rose in England, but right now I'm missing the drizzly rain, the ease of getting out of the house to see people and English flipping sausages!

Please, can something go well? Or, if it must go wrong, can it be something that doesn't cost us money?

Please note: the pregnancy reference was a joke. I'm not pregnant at all, never mind with six.

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