Today the freight container arrived. No more camping out, although I have to say it makes killing the big, arachniphobia-style spiders much easier if you can see them coming from half a room away. The truck and moving crew were booked for a 9 a.m. start which would allow Ann and I to enjoy a leisurely start to our day, and I’m not sure I know what that means, but for Ann it generally means sleeping until 8:59. Contrary to all natural laws governing human behavior in France, the truck and crew arrived more than an hour early, causing no problems for Ann, but left the cats and I bit rattled. All it took, however, was for one familiar object, in this case a painting of a mountain landscape, and the house began to feel like home.
As the rest of the significant pile of cardboard and tape gets unwrapped, we are recognizing some gaps in our attentiveness during packing. For example, Ann just opened a box containing a pile of restaurant flyers for various establishments in our neighborhood in Calgary. Perhaps this represents thoroughness on the part of the packers. Still, I’m not sure we had to bring our recycling.
To catch up on things, we ended up buying one new small car, which will only take a couple of weeks to be ready even though we were careful to order one of the models they have in stock. I’ve learned it's best not to even ask in these situations, which allows me to work on my non-verbal French: the eye roll and the look of exasperation. We’ve also put a hold on a larger road-trip vehicle, which suffers one small problem: the former owner was a poster-child for Phillip-Morris. We have asked for a complete detailing and the first right of refusal if it stinks like a giant mobile ashtray. Personally, I don’t give the used car guys much hope. Plan B is to spend more money and buy a brand new one. So far the plan B’s have been winning out at a rate of about 10-1. Ann assures me we won’t run out of money any time soon, and, as a trailing spouse, it isn’t my place to ask questions.
There have been some comments recently concerning my choice to take my golf clubs as a checked bag (although we were only allowed two) rather than putting them in the freight container, and it’s time to put the whole discussion to rest. Those of you who golf will sympathize with me when I explain the items in the freight container would disappear for at least six weeks. In Calgary, six weeks can represent up to half an entire golf season. I thought I would exceed normal golf exposure limits up to the date of departure, and then lay off the game for a while until we got settled in (it's just a hobby, I can quit anytime). So, when the offer to play came up yesterday, almost a full week since we arrived, who could refuse? To be honest, I expect I was set up by Ann so I don’t complain too much during the upcoming Bastille day road trip. Phew! Now that I’ve cleared that up we can move on.
Tomorrow: road trip #1.
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