Running on Coffee, Crumbs, and (of Course) Chaos

I don’t ask for much. Just the perfect place to live.

Somewhere with the perfect climate—not too hot, not too cold, and not humid enough to make me feel like I’m walking through soup every time I leave the house. A place where my senior bulldog can waddle around comfortably and my absurdly dramatic cat can continue his reign of terror undisturbed. Oh, and it has to have the best school district, because obviously, education matters. While we’re at it, let’s make sure the taxes are just right—not so high they drain my soul, but not so low that basic services resemble a dystopian novel.

And I need top-tier doctors. The kind of doctors that inspire confidence just by existing—ones backed by a big, fancy university medical center. Because let’s be real, life is unpredictable, and I need to know that if something goes sideways, I’ll be in good hands.

So, how does one embark on this quest?

Step One: Google Everything

First, I spend hours, possibly days, going down internet rabbit holes, analyzing climate data like I’m planning a billion-dollar agricultural venture. I cross-reference tax rates, school rankings, vet reviews, and proximity to medical meccas.

Step Two: Have a Crisis

By the time I’m 50, I spiral into a mild existential crisis. No place is perfect. Some have great weather but sky-high property taxes. Others have fantastic schools but lack a decent vet for my high-maintenance pets. One state has it all—until I find out about the spiders. No. Just no.

Step Three: The Road Trip Phase

Realizing I need boots-on-the-ground research, I set out on a wildly ambitious road trip. My bulldog sighs dramatically in the backseat. My cat glares at me from his carrier, plotting his revenge. I roll through different cities, checking out neighborhoods, sneaking peeks at dog parks, visiting vet clinics to interrogate the staff like a helicopter pet parent. I drive by schools and pretend I’m not a creeper when I Google their ratings from across the street. I pop into coffee shops, trying to gauge the vibe—is it hip but not pretentious? Cozy but not boring?

Step Four: The Moment of Truth

Eventually, it happens. I step into a town that feels like home. The air is crisp but not biting. There’s a vet who actually seems to like animals (harder to find than you’d think). The local high school has a solid ranking. The people are friendly but not in an overly invasive way. Taxes? Manageable. Medical center? Top-notch.

It’s not perfect, but it’s close.

Step Five: Embracing the Chaos

So here I am, settling in, still a hot mess but at least a hot mess with a plan. My bulldog has found his favorite sun patch. My cat has claimed his new kingdom. And I? I’m still Googling local events and trying to remember where I packed the coffee maker.

Perfection doesn’t exist—but I think I’ve found something even better: a place that fits us.

and in the end I am still on my laptop with a broken keyboard …