Wednesday, January 28, 2015

Limbo!

Please don't tell me the Japanese is wrong -
I'm SURE that it's wrong in many places,
but it's close enough to get the point across,
so it's done.
There’s the point in an international move where you will find yourself in Moving Limbo.  A purgatory of relocation, if you will.  As I type this, The Mister and I are coming to the realization that we held out as long as possible, but our Moving Limbo has begun.

Moving Limbo is a weird space to find yourself:  After months of preparations and working like a dog to make sure everything is in place, now is the time when most things have already been set in motion or completed and all that's left is to wait.  Except we still have that original momentum, still feeling like we need to keep running for the finish line to do a ton of stuff.  This can be good, as it means I have time/ inertia to knock some unimportant, but useful things off the list; like making a sign for Mac’s flight crate, or working on outlining what we’ll need grocery-wise when we arrive and translating those items into Japanese so we can ask about them in the store.  It can also be a little maddening to have all this seemingly “wasted" time.

All of our belongings have shipped, save for a suitcase of clothing and a blanket for each of us, enough pet food to get both Mac and Bub through until they fly, and Mac’s giant dog crate.  Also Bubba has this box.  As all of his other worldly possessions have gone, he’s become fairly protective of his box.  

(fun aside, The Mister was not thinking clearly when he packed his clothing - with shipping time-lines, one is supposed to pack enough in a suitcase to get by for about a month.  The Mister only packed few shirts, a pair of pants, and some socks/ boxers.  He is going to be SO excited in March when sweaters/ additional pants, etc. arrive)

Because our apartment abroad will be furnished, and because most of our American furniture wouldn’t fit anyway, we sold all our furniture here.  We held out on the people who bought the bed as long as possible, but they’re coming to get the mattress today (which has been on the floor for us to sleep on for a month now).  Admittedly, I’ve found floor-sleeping is doing wonders for my lower back.  Nothing says “you’re old now!” like being excited about my back feeling not achy when I wake up after a full nights' sleep.

Meanwhile, Mac and Bubba had their final vet visit yesterday.  It was a brief exam and then a MOUNTAIN of paperwork to check, double check, and sign on the dotted line.  Those papers have been overnighted to the USDA so the boys can be certified like sides of beef (really it’s a certification that says they’ve been Rabies free for 6 months and are vaccinated - it serves as their quarantine, and will keep them from having a formal quarantine upon arrival).  After raising two very well-behaved critters, I was a little dismayed to see the tantrum Bubba threw at our last visit earned him a note on his chart:
punk.

What all of that means, is this morning The Mister and I woke up to this reality:

It is time to finally check into a Hotel. 
HOORAY.
King sized beds for everyone! ...for a week.  And then no more king sized beds for three years!


Have you ever under-packed for a trip?  
What did you do?  
Tell me in the comments!  
(so that I can pass some sage advice along to The Mister!)

today's little language lesson
すみません、果物はどこ ですか
Sumi-ma-sen, kudamono wa doko des ka.
Excuse me, where is the fruit?

2 comments:

Optimistic Existentialist said...

Oh my gosh I had no idea we both were going through an international move!! It's so good to know that someone else is in the same situation! I am going to sell my furniture here as well. The cost of shipping it would exceed what it's worth so that's just not feasible. I cannot wait to follow your journey on here :)

K Wingert said...

We were fortunate that Belizeans are scared of dogs because it allowed me to (quite literally) be shoved to the front of the customs line and processed through really quickly. The one holdup was the customs agent that refused to believe they were pets and wrote his assessment of their monetary value IN MY PASSPORT. I'm still pretty livid about that.