As I drove to D.C. at the end of November, I found myself running low on gas. As I approached the Delaware state line, I thought to myself, "It sure is cold out. I should get gas before I leave New Jersey so I don't have to get out of my car." And that's exactly what I did.
Here in New Jersey, my car's brakes are getting a workout (because the drivers here are still crazy & I'm still not), & my left turn signal is atrophying from lack of use. I occasionally still miss my jughandle, which sends me a mile or so out of my way before I can turn around, but on the streets I frequent most, I know exactly where to turn right so that I may then turn left.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRHepQHISHwahCgZczlu0Qguv4LzHvkWC4-2miJU-qqeNnVG8VX4zbVyfulgsybXXG-cMqMNJhdXt3YgEJmysmEO3ukTr8ZHJY9675HTX3ZIufp8rOoN_ExGgX-Gf1llrup44P7M9ZKQtl/s320/jersey1.jpg)
Little things, but they add up to something big: I'm getting used to life in New Jersey. I sometimes say, "The worst part about living in New Jersey is telling people you live in New Jersey" - which means that the place itself isn't as bad as the reputation it has.
It's OK here. I'm OK here. And life is good.
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