• Marny Heit

Whoa.

I'm writing this from a crappy hotel in Fishkill, New York. We're officially 4 hours from the border, and about 5 hours from our new apartment (I wrote an entry about the apartment search that I never got a chance to finish, so you'll hear about that eventually). The last few days have been a blur. So, let's go back to the beginning-- which I guess was about 4 days ago.

Our movers were scheduled to come get all our worldly possessions on August 1st. Because the move is such a long distance, I had discussed with our "moving consultant" (who I think I now hate) when we should expect our stuff to arrive. He gave the super-helpful window of "between August 6 and August 27th". Yes, you read that correctly. A 3 WEEK WINDOW. This stressed me out. I'm not that loosey goosey, "whatever, man" type of person who doesn't need a schedule or structure. I don't work that way. But that's how this process goes, so... I accepted it. We gathered what we'd need for 3 weeks of survival, and went with it.

We figured it would definitely be at least a week before we should start making our way North. I mean, it's a long drive-- the moving truck is definitely gonna have some stops along the way, right? The closing on our house was scheduled for the afternoon of August 2, and our dear friends had planned a good-bye party for us on August 4th. Things were falling into place. Since today is August 4th, you can probably guess what happened next.

On the evening of August 1, the driver of our moving truck (Jason) called me to ask how soon we would be in Montreal so that we could arrange delivery. I told him that if he could deliver around August 10th, that would be great. My thinking was that date would get us through the weekend, give us a chance to say goodbye to our friends, enjoy some last few Atlanta things, and allow us to take a leisurely 1200 mile drive. This was not Jason's plan. Jason's plan was to arrive with our belongings on Monday August 6th. THE FIRST DAY OF THE WINDOW. This meant that we'd have to leave the morning of August 3rd, and drive our asses off. I explained to Jason that it would be much better for us if he would come the 10th. Jason explained how his job works as far as routes and timing, etc. resulting in a big fat no to August 10th. I tried to get him to agree to the 8th. He wasn't down with that idea either.

Normally, most people would probably be thrilled that their movers would be arriving so soon. Wow, they'd say, we'll have all of our stuff so quickly and we'll be able to unpack and settle in nice and early. We are not most people. We were not ready for this. I hung up the phone with Jason, turned to Chris and said, "I really didn't like that conversation." You see, I hadn't counted on the fact that we pretty much had zero input into the issue of when our stuff wold be delivered. If Jason says he's coming on the 6th, that's when he's coming. And that means we were going to be hitting the road on August 3rd. Say good-bye to the good-bye party.

On August 2nd, we closed on our house, raced to the airport, and rented an SUV that we could start loading up with the 3 weeks worth of stuff that we thought we would need, and our cat (who also somehow has a carton of belongings in addition to her bed, her blanket, her carrier and her litterbox). And August 3rd, Chris, Natasha The Cat, and I hit the road.

Night 1, we stayed at a friend's house in Roanoke, Virginia. Here's Natasha wondering why we're putting her through all of this:

I'm not cut out for the road.

Night 2, we're in the aforementioned crappy hotel in Fishkill. For this stop, Natasha is choosing to live in denial by sleeping through the whole thing:

The longer I sleep, the sooner this ends.



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About me

After almost 20 years living in Atlanta, Georgia, my husband and I decided it was time to make a change. We packed up our lives, grabbed our beloved cat, and ventured North to re-make our lives in Montreal, Canada.  Did I mention we don't speak French yet?

 

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