It's 5am and I have been tossing and turning since 2:30 when I finally decided I had packed and sorted as much as I can to go for the final load into the moving POD tomorrow, which is, in fact, in just a couple of hours. Apparently my mind can't quit playing moving Tetris until everything is finished.
Besides mentally shuffling our various belongings into a 16 foot trailer, I have been thinking about the chaos of being married to my International Man of Mystery, aka Mr. IMo?. As already established he's not anything as glamorous a spy, just a guy with dreams of walking through an airport handcuffed to a briefcase, which we all know is totally old school and never going to happen. Despite the occasional weird out-of-country excursion he's just a regular under-appreciated desk-warmer who occasionally, quietly, saves the world one piece of paper at a time.
The way this all ties in of course is how this job, which ranges from the horribly mundane to the occasionally critical and rarely exotic, effects our glob-trotting ways. There are perks like that trip I took to Italy to visit a friend I met while living in Asia, but the real test comes when the call comes that it's time to move. I box almost everything into storage, pack what I can into 1 suitcase and 1 carry-on per person, and as I say goodbye to 99% of my earthly possessions, we live out of that suitcase and carry-on for months at a time (more times than you may believe) until it is finally determined where exactly in the world we are headed. We had been told California's Bay Area, but now that doesn't look like the real destination. All I really know this time is that at least the kids and I are staying in country.
And so my gypsy ways re-emerge, and I sturdy myself for the uncertain life most people will never have a chance live. Never risking living on the streets but sometimes living out of a car for more days than I am willing to go on record admitting. Is it worth it? Who really cares. I have seen more since I hooked up with Mr. IMo? than my young provincial self ever dreamed possible. My still very young kids have already had multiple passports.
This weekend I drive into the sunset, carrying the most basic necessities (and a few things that keep a house running until the last minute & when just starting up) so the kids can spend time with extended family while we await our final landing coordinates. I can no longer remember how many times exactly I have driven across the country, with and without kids or Mr. IMo? but as we stop to see the worlds largest ball of string or dig for dinosaur bones, I have to admit the unknown destination is as fun as the journey getting there. And honestly I no longer really mind that all our stuff gets hauled away and on its way it may crash all over the highway or sink into the ocean and it could all be gone, gone, gone. I don't care because we are going, going, gone and too busy having an adventure to care.
SONG OF THE DAY:
"Gone, Gone, Gone" - Echo and the Bunnymen
"...My instincts are to kiss this train, I hear it coming.... To all this grand old scheme of things, to all the pain it brings, to all those who pull the strings, I bid good riddance...The normal rules do not apply. The mind is not to reason why. Gone, gone, gone".