I don’t know about ya’ll but for me, eating too much and too late in the evening leads to odd dreams.
Last night’s offering found me enjoying an Emmy prize with Jon Hamm (he
plays Don Draper in Mad Men). Too bad the prize was two seats at the
Olympic Games where we watched a yak-driving competition, and there was only
one team and one yak. I was
disappointed, naturally, and Mr. Hamm was livid. Where does this stuff come from?
Our travel date is fast approaching and the missus has already packed most of the kuh-nick-kuh-nacks and books. I’m looking forward to being in Portland
again (no offense, Burqueños!) but the mate is in a fair froth. Sure, less for me to do, but it already feels
like I live in a storage shed up in here.
I’ll be brushing my teeth with tree bark if she doesn’t slow down.
The truck is reserved (a 14-footer, plenty enough room since all of our old gargantuan pieces have been sold off), as is a car dolly with
which to transport the car. I’m a little
trepidatious about using a car dolly since we used a transport trailer for the
trip to Albuquerque, but apparently,
while somewhat less than ideal, I haven’t read anything truly dire about
dragging the car with one. If some classic
car enthusiasts are willing to use dollies to haul their shiny relics (as my
research on the web has found), I guess I shouldn’t worry about a Yaris. This time my bike isn’t going to be strapped
to the back of the car, though. There
should be space in the truck for it.
One thousand three hundred and seventy point six-three miles, travel time estimated via MapQuest at twenty-one hours and forty-three
minutes. We could shave a few miles off
that, but I choose to reach I-25 via Tramway so that we can avoid most of the in-town
interstate traffic, which resembles the asteroid-dodging scene in The Empire Strikes Back way too much for
my taste. ANYWAY, for sane people this
translates to two and a half days of driving and motel luxury. We’re driving it straight through, pausing
every two hours to stretch and switch seats. Why?
Because we are hardy folk of pioneer stock who believe nothing is worth
doing if you aren’t willing to suffer miserably and unnecessarily while doing
it. Have we ever done this before? No, although we have two or three 12-hour
slogs under our collective belt. I won’t
say I’m exactly over the Moon about the prospect, but I was watching a show
about the United States Marine rite of passage known as The Crucible yesterday
afternoon, and I thought to myself, “These guys have to stay awake for
fifty-four hours and, like, march and run all the way across a state while
getting yelled at and crap. We’ll be
sitting in an air-conditioned truck for roughly half that time and the yelling
probably won’t start until after a couple hundred miles. Piece o’ cake”. Right?
Right? Say “right”.
I’ve given my notice at work, and now it’s all I can do to pay attention to what I’m doing. Several
people have approached me to say they’ll miss having me around (and quite a few
really seem to mean it!), and there are some people and aspects of the job that
I’ll miss in return, but as a whole I won’t be sorry to leave. As for my prospects once in Portland, a
couple of friends there have already given me leads on possibilities and I even
sent my resumé via email to my past employer as a sort-of joke (But who
knows? Maybe I’ve been gone long enough
for them to forget some stuff).
The apartment community we left is holding an apartment for us, so we’ll be driving directly to a new home that’s in a way an old
home. Can’t beat that. All aspects seem to be falling into place,
and thus the anxiety of facing yet another move should be eased.