It’s been a little over a month since I said “I do” and committed my life to my husband, Austin.
It’s been a great month together, but it has also been mass chaos, at some points, and extremely stressful at others, the main reason being, I lived in Washington, he lived in California. Most lucky couples get married and have only a few legalities to take care of after the wedding. For, me, they still haven’t ended.
We returned from our week in Boston on a Sunday evening. The following Monday was Memorial Day, useless for doing anything in preparation for my move to California on Wednesday. Tuesday morning, bright at early, we hit the Social Security Administration to legally change my name (luckily my mother had picked up certified copies of the marriage license while we had been gone, or it would have been a much longer day). It was so easy I thought for sure I’d been stressed for nothing.
My husband and I packed my ’93 Geo Metro full of all my stuff, plus the cat, and made the 13-hour drive from SeaTac to Modesto without a hitch and I waited for a few weeks for my new SS card so I could legally become a licensed driver in the state of California, though apparently I didn’t even need it, just the number. So far, so good. The move has been fine.
But then I had to tackle insurance.
Aside from my two years at university, I’ve lived with my parents, stayed on their insurance and taken it all for granted that I can drive care free. But now that I live in a different state, it’s time for my car to become legally mine, which means I need my own insurance policy. And that’s some grown up stuff that no one and nothing had prepared me for. Many numbers and few words — the exact opposite of how my brain is hardwired to work.
If I didn’t have massive anxiety about busy streets, I’d walk or bike the six-minute drive to my work and mooch off my husband whenever I need to go farther distances. But, alas.
Instead, we’ve been sifting through insurance quotes wondering how much dollar-coverage we really need and hoping our parents can help us make an educated decision. Then we have a whole other adventure of smogging and registering my poor little car, which I’m supposed to do within 30 days of moving (which, I get, it has to be done in a timely fashion, but give me time to figure out my life and all this grown-up stuff. It’s 2015 and adulthood 101 still isn’t required for any kind of degree or diploma.)
Long story short, it’s been a whole month of one continuous thought for me: “once I get this taken care of, I’ll feel better and less stressed.”
And it’s true every time. For about five minutes. Until I think of the next thing I have to do and learn.
Good thing I always knew life is a continuous journey of learning.