Danville, Kentucky, is a perfect example of small-town America. It's small enough that everyone seems to know everyone else, so if you're the new face in town, you have to get friendly real quick. The accent is an interesting blend; it's not quite a long drawl, but there's a definite twang in the words, which makes it seem almost like people are singing. And it's nearly impossible to be independent without an automobile. The closest grocery store is about a mile and a half away from downtown, which means either a long walk or a ride from somebody you know.

Of course, I don't quite know many people, so it's been meals have been exceedingly simple: Lunch? Ham and cheese sandwich. Dinner? Let me think... oh, a ham and cheese sandwich. Lunch the next day? Um, ham and cheese sandwich. Tiffany isn't due to be shipped here till May 18th, so I don't see a major change in this particular modus operandi.

Thankfully, the fifty-or-so boxes that constitute the sum of my earthly possessions arrived this afternoon. I managed to unload about forty before the heavens gave way and it started pouring. Mind you, this was no California early-fall drizzle. It was coming down. The road actually started to resemble a bubbling brook, and so I decided to take a break and go inside for a ham and cheese sandwich.

The apartment, of course, is just great. It's massive by California standards, and all that for $350 a month. $350 bucks rents you tent space in someone's backyard in California. But here I've a pretty fancy apartment, save for the fact that the airconditioning didn't work on the first day, hot water failed on the second, and today the power went out. But hey, nobody's perfect.