Repatriation Blues

Someone give this woman a harmonica 'cause she's got the Blues ....

Help me! I'm dying over here! Ok - a little melodramatic but I'll tell you, international moves are just not for the faint of heart. No move is for that matter.

A few highlights of the sometimes funny, sometimes exasperating ... Repat Blues.

We moved in late (da na na). They broke antiques (da na na).
Things can be fixed (da na na), in a few weeks (da na na).

OK ... forget the song and on to prose. I have no brain cells left.

The fence people came (because of the dog) but knocked out our phone and alarm. The dog got out when the phone guy came to fix the line and ran away. We got her back and my Mom promptly arrived on our doorstep with a new id tag for the dog with our phone number (Mom is a dog lover of the highest order) just in case she should ever get loose again. This would of course need to mean that our phone was indeed - working. Two hours later I get a call (it works!) from some young women up the street who tell me they are playing with my dog on the church lawn. Exhale.

My oven went out. The repairman told me that the part wasn't available since the oven is so old so I need to buy a new oven. OF COURSE I need a new oven right now! The paycheck has wings these days.

My daughter threw up on the first day of school. Nerves or just ... sick? I don't know.

I went to the mall at 8pm to buy clothes because ... I have none. I was so busy getting everyone else packed out of Kathmandu that I neglected to pack a few things of my own for use past Labor Day. Or maybe subconsciously I felt that I NEEDED to buy a few new things given that I haven't bought fall clothing in at least 4 years?

Our sea freight is still ... at sea. There is furniture in our house ... but it echoes ... and our children are LOUD.

But really, I'm OK. Back to the harmonica.

Lightly ...
Laurel