Come spend a year in Fairmont, WV.
Where I once was denied medical care and almost lost my kids because I showed up at the ER sick, pregnant, without a babysitter (I'd asked everyone I knew, but they were too busy to help), in pajamas (late at night).
Sometimes I really wish I'd had the balls to hold them accoutable for my losing that baby (even though I think it was probably chromosomal anomalies incompatible with life; it almost always is when you lose them in the first trimester) and charged them with malpractice and wrongful death. Hubby says the girl in the advocacy office probably thought I was going to try (didn't cross my mind until he brought it up; I was too busy being terrified that I would be punished for daring to complain).
Guarantee you'll be homesick for your hometown.
I know Fairmont certainly makes me grateful for the one-goat burg we moved to when we left there. In Wadestown, when people throw rocks at me (because of lies told by a b***h from Fairmont), other people protect my kids and tell me that the rock-throwers are Satan-worshipping as*holes.
In Fairmont, they just get more rocks.
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"Alas, our dried voices when we whisper together are quiet and meaningless, as wind in dry grass, or rats' feet over broken glass in our dry cellar." --TS Eliot, "The Hollow Men"