We are finally back in our crazy a$$ ghetto fabulous apartment. I was wondering if anyone would notice that we were missing in inaction and I was pleasantly surprised to learn that folks in the building were debating calling the cops to check on us. Nothing says you care like calling the authorities when someone is not to be found.
Turns out, people who work for the complex had grown accustomed to the excited way our soon to be five year old, Lanes, chatters incessantly all the way up the stairs after school and the way I have one sided fights with the communal washer/dryers every other day.
They would have noticed something about my diligent spouse, P, but he tends to keep to himself and generally gets about undetected, safe for the multiple times he bumps his knee into some inanimate object or gets stuck in the elevator.
As I lumbered down with laundry and a late rent check I was greeted with lots of affection and I was touched to see from their eyes that they were genuinely worried. I also realized that I talk to these folks almost daily and somewhere along the line we had crossed the line from acquaintances to friends. It took going across several oceans for it to dawn on me.
I felt really guilty I didn't say we were going to be away. My geriatric amigos in the building had told me not to let it be known if we were leaving our apartment uninhabited. I was raised to listen to my elders. I figured since it was only for 10 days it would just whiz by. Thanks to our bout of fever, that turned into three weeks.
Any old how, I covered it up with a 'are you sure I didn't mention it?' and a 'but it was only supposed to be ten days'. Then I dazzled them with gifts of hand painted elephants from the motherland and they were successfully distracted and delighted. Whew.
We had a gruelling time getting here. We flew into Seattle and waited in line for about an hour to get through immigration. Lanes was out for the count and P had the joy of lugging her. Due to the proportion of her height to mine, I look like a house fell on me every time I try to carry her.
I was exhausted because the woman in front of me spent the fourteen and a half hour flight literally almost sitting on my lap. She would alter between scolding her prepubescent son (who I thought was a daughter) and then stroking him lovingly on the back. I couldn't get comfortable to sleep and I felt pain in bones I didn't know I had.
Any old how, I was rather proud of myself for getting our luggage off the conveyor belts (P was still saddled with our precious cargo), only to find that in Seattle they take your luggage after customs and put it on yet another conveyor belt. After muscling our way around the airport we got to my nutty sister's house, which I successfully broke into.
She had left clean dishes in the dishwasher and she seemed to have left in a hurry because she had dirty dishes in the sink. After scrubbing and feeding Lanes, in my zombie-like state, I put away all her tableware and cleaned up the sink.
I'm now known as the Dishwasher Bandit and other folks are hoping I'll break into their houses as well. Kind of Robin Hood without the stealing and tights meets Mr. Clean with gravity defying hair.
After a quick two hour nap we loaded most of our luggage into our Honda and headed north. I held my breath upon approaching the building and heaved a sigh of relief when I found it still standing. At the ghetto fab you never know.
At 11pm we were finally home. Yes, I called it home. Took me by surprise too--until we left I thought of it as the place we kept our stuff for the moment.
Lanes was up by then and she waltzed in and echoed my sentiments by saying 'ah, home sweet home' and immediately went to her room and played with her toys. P was dog tired and had to go straight to bed without collecting his Monopoly $200 because he had to report to work in the morning.
Turns out, people who work for the complex had grown accustomed to the excited way our soon to be five year old, Lanes, chatters incessantly all the way up the stairs after school and the way I have one sided fights with the communal washer/dryers every other day.
They would have noticed something about my diligent spouse, P, but he tends to keep to himself and generally gets about undetected, safe for the multiple times he bumps his knee into some inanimate object or gets stuck in the elevator.
As I lumbered down with laundry and a late rent check I was greeted with lots of affection and I was touched to see from their eyes that they were genuinely worried. I also realized that I talk to these folks almost daily and somewhere along the line we had crossed the line from acquaintances to friends. It took going across several oceans for it to dawn on me.
I felt really guilty I didn't say we were going to be away. My geriatric amigos in the building had told me not to let it be known if we were leaving our apartment uninhabited. I was raised to listen to my elders. I figured since it was only for 10 days it would just whiz by. Thanks to our bout of fever, that turned into three weeks.
Any old how, I covered it up with a 'are you sure I didn't mention it?' and a 'but it was only supposed to be ten days'. Then I dazzled them with gifts of hand painted elephants from the motherland and they were successfully distracted and delighted. Whew.
We had a gruelling time getting here. We flew into Seattle and waited in line for about an hour to get through immigration. Lanes was out for the count and P had the joy of lugging her. Due to the proportion of her height to mine, I look like a house fell on me every time I try to carry her.
I was exhausted because the woman in front of me spent the fourteen and a half hour flight literally almost sitting on my lap. She would alter between scolding her prepubescent son (who I thought was a daughter) and then stroking him lovingly on the back. I couldn't get comfortable to sleep and I felt pain in bones I didn't know I had.
Any old how, I was rather proud of myself for getting our luggage off the conveyor belts (P was still saddled with our precious cargo), only to find that in Seattle they take your luggage after customs and put it on yet another conveyor belt. After muscling our way around the airport we got to my nutty sister's house, which I successfully broke into.
She had left clean dishes in the dishwasher and she seemed to have left in a hurry because she had dirty dishes in the sink. After scrubbing and feeding Lanes, in my zombie-like state, I put away all her tableware and cleaned up the sink.
I'm now known as the Dishwasher Bandit and other folks are hoping I'll break into their houses as well. Kind of Robin Hood without the stealing and tights meets Mr. Clean with gravity defying hair.
After a quick two hour nap we loaded most of our luggage into our Honda and headed north. I held my breath upon approaching the building and heaved a sigh of relief when I found it still standing. At the ghetto fab you never know.
At 11pm we were finally home. Yes, I called it home. Took me by surprise too--until we left I thought of it as the place we kept our stuff for the moment.
Lanes was up by then and she waltzed in and echoed my sentiments by saying 'ah, home sweet home' and immediately went to her room and played with her toys. P was dog tired and had to go straight to bed without collecting his Monopoly $200 because he had to report to work in the morning.
I have no idea how he did it considering we are so tired, we could easily win first prize at a narcolepsy convention. But life goes on--P is back to work, Lanes is back for her last month of preschool, and I'm doing my thing.
Friday was P's birthday, and I'm not sure if I'm allowed to specify how many candles should have been on his cake. Let's just say we could have invited some boy scouts to roast marshmallows and have a sing along around it.
He loves to have a party on his birthday and despite being tired and barely awake, at the last minute I ran to get some groceries and made him a special dinner and a cake from scratch. Lanes insisted that the cake has to be blue because it's allegedly P's favorite color.
Luckily, his best friend was going to be in the neighborhood and I lassoed him, his wife, and the first friend we met in Canada into my impromptu plans and we had a mini party for P. Despite my misadventures with blue food coloring (I now look like I have extra veins on my hands), everything turned out well and P was delighted, so mission accomplished.
During our trip to the motherland we really enjoyed spending time (when we were not shackled to our sick beds) with family and friends. When we came back to Canada we found that we missed our friends here while we were away.
So now when folks ask us again, as they often did in the motherland, is home here or there, I'm going to say it's here and there and everywhere! Kind of sounds like line from a Dr.Seuss book!
I must sign off as I have to go and think of a creative way to get Lanes excited about getting a series of vaccinations she needs to get before kindergarten. I think she is not going to be pleased with me! Somehow P is always the good guy when it comes to these things. More musings from BC next week...
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