Day one may have been to early

This is a problem I absolutely created for myself. If you fall in love with everyone and everything immediately there’s nowhere to go but down.

New Orleans hasn’t disappointed me. Ashley in New Orleans though? She’s disappointing me a little. The last few days I had to manage to try to be my normal self, in my normal time zone, with my normal job. It was not easy. I stayed up until way too late the first night panicking because I didn’t want to leave the happy glow of the day. And as hard as I tried, I couldn’t exactly hang on to the day.

As much as I would like to control time and space, I haven’t managed it. I have managed to keep Bridgerton going for a good three weeks now, which I kinda think is the same thing.

But I think that’s okay. I had incredibly grand plans to wake up early every day to go out and explore this new magical place on foot. I had plans to become best friends with every person in my neighborhood, every shopkeeper on the block and the operator of the street car. I was going to dress like if Elizabeth Bennet lived in 1982 and worked for a publishing house. Eat everything I could find but also lose 20 pounds and fix my skin problems once and for all.

But that’s not happening. Don’t get me wrong, I’m trying really hard to be that girl. But in my heart, and soul, and gut. I’m still me. And I take more time to warm up to things than I ever think. I can’t wake up early because I stay up late reading or staring at all of the masks and skulls that adorn the walls (wish I was kidding). I’m not becoming friends with really anyone other than people who remind me of a cross between all of the male figures in my life (Dad, Steve, Grandpa, Grandpa David, Mr. Cornell, Mr. Leon, Dr. Rocha, Mr. Madigan and my boss Andy Russell) because people who aren’t familiar tend to scare me and it takes me a good 4 hours of lurking near them to speak. And I haven’t gotten on the streetcar yet because I haven’t figured out how to pay for it, and I’m too scared to get on and mess it up publicly. I am at least dressing like I have somewhere to go and eating like I’m preparing for hibernation, so those two are set.

So maybe I scale back my expectations for myself this week. Maybe it’s enough to figure out the streetcar and go on a few walks in the Garden District. And to cover up those damn skulls on the wall so I can get to bed a bit earlier. I’m not sure if that means I’ll be rapturously in love with myself and my journey by the end of this, but hopefully it’ll make each day a bit brighter.

Speaking of brighter though, here are some unexpected things I’ve fallen in love with so far:

the hot sticky air

only using fans and a cold compress when i’m too hot

keeping my house slippers on all day

the cat that has adopted me and sits outside my door and meows any time it hears me talking (even to myself)

the single dark green coup glass in this house i’m drinking my celebratory champagne out of

taking quick baths in the clawfoot tub in the morning to wake myself up

playing an iron and wine record on repeat because it just works

holding motzerella sticks like fat little cigars

facetiming with my friends who are now blonde and seem happy

post offices and cute stamps

bread pudding

today.

garden district, more pens, the heater and a waitress calling me baby and giving me free bread pudding

the man flirting his tail off with a woman by reading her palms