On The Move

This might be a better option. Can you ship kids?

This might be a better option. Can you ship kids?

Holy old cheezits, folks.

We’re doing this.

Heading for the East Coast.

I won’t lie, I’m more than a little bit freaking out.

Imp: “I’m scared.”

Wolf: “Exhilarating, isn’t it?”

Imp: “You and I obviously have very different fear responses.”

It’s not so much the move that’s freaking me out. It’s the time between now and then.

Wolf and Tazzie are leaving ahead of the rest of us, driving across Canada with a trailer. And Canada, in case you don’t know, is a BIG ASSED country.

The girls, the toddlers and I are staying back, finishing up the odds and sods, including having Salvation Army come and pick up whatever is left.

And then…it’s travel time. Which is where the anxiety kicks in to high gear.

Five hours on a bus. FIVE HOURS ON A BUS.

Then, a day to catch our breath, and on a plane for six hours, with one change.

I’ve informed Wolf that if we all survive it, I expect a bottle of rye when we land. And a seriously expensive Christmas gift. Assuming I’ve quit twitching and drooling by Christmas.

Being on a bus and plane for five and six hours would be a challenge in itself. Add in two toddlers, and it’s just this side of insanity. Add in the whole one-armed, chronic pain gig, and it crosses the line into full-blown psychosis.

Ever since Wolf was away for a week, then home, then away for four days for work in the last few weeks, BOTH Terror Toddlers have started to completely lose their ever-loving minds when Wolf leaves their sight. And we’re going to be apart for EIGHT FREAKING DAYS.

It’s not like I can drink my way through it, either. As the only adult, I need to be sober and completely functional. Well, as functional as I get, or can be, because there is little doubt, in ANYONE’S mind, that RSD is going to flare all to hell. Even my Dr expressed concern about how I’ll manage.

Which is why we have the extra day at the hotel. It *was* possible, in terms of scheduling, to arrive the afternoon, and then leave the next am. But, realistically speaking? Nightmare. The chances are extremely high I’ll get off the bus in a haze of pain. Having an early morning flight the next morning would give me no recovery time, and ensure that I couldn’t take any meds at all, because being medicated makes it hard to wake up at unGodly-hour-o’clock to get everyone out the door for a flight.

So, things are going to be chaotic.

I keep trying to convince Wolf to take one of the toddlers with him, but no dice. The man just isn’t that dumb.

Which doesn’t say much for my IQ now does it? LOL

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Comments

On The Move — 5 Comments

  1. All I can say is, good luck. Your bravery is truly inspiring. The bravest part is that you’re responsible enough to wait to have the bottle of rye at the end of your trip instead of the beginning.

  2. Pingback: Goodbye 2015, Welcome 2016! - Not A Stepford Life

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