Really, what else do I need?
I have a green card. I have a debit card (also green, confusingly). I have a social security number. I have a car, I have a cell phone, I have a gym membership.
Best of all, I have a Kroger card which makes our grocery runs automatically less expensive, with no catch other than Kroger knowing exactly what I buy from them.
So I’m good to go, really, I’m all set. Except for the state drivers license (and I’m working on that).
But none of this, as it turns out, is enough to make me fit in here. There’s no key I can buy that unlocks the door to normality. Sorry, normalcy. (And on that point, “normalcy” is a horrible word that I won’t be using again, ever.)
No. Like New York, this state is filled to capacity with signs about what not to do and how much it will cost if you go ahead and do it, but the rules on how to not have everyone look at you funny have been lost, or stolen, or just filed horribly. Because I can’t find them. The more time I spend here, the more I realize there are not even subtle hints provided for the things I really need to know…