July 4 has come and gone... though I imagine it will remain a memorable day for all of the members of our family--two- and four-footed. Most of the day was spent in dread of the coming ordeal made a bit less ominous by the busy-making packing up of what remained of our stuff--the keeper items that had escaped the *real* packing--so that my parents could ship it to us via UPS. (Thanks to Jeff from church for the brilliant idea... and to Mom and Dad for actually making it happen!)
The then coming ordeal, namely a flight to Raleigh via JFK in New York--with two cats as carry-on luggage, was not on our list of things to look forward to. (No, the routing through NY made no sense to us either.) In fact, the getting to Raleigh was the bit none of us wanted to do. The cats knew something was up, but never having flown before, they really could not have imagined what they were in for. I have since consulted with them and they have indicated a preference for never doing it again.
Among the improbabilities referenced in the title of this post is genuine human decency exhibited by airline employees. Delta made big points in my book. You see, we went to the wrong kiosk to check in, and with over a hundred pounds of luggage and 2 cats (one of whom had managed to work his head out of his carrier and was looking for the nearest hiding place should he manage to effect an escape), moving to a new counter was no small matter. We moved to the counter suggested by a Delta employee, only to be told that we were, once again, in the wrong spot.
The nice man at the counter must have read the desperation in my eyes, because he looked at his non-existent line and declared that he could help us afterall. And help he did. He managed to put us and all of our luggage on a *direct* flight to Raleigh with no additional charges for the flight transfer or the over-weight luggage. So, we ended up on a flight that took much less time and got us into the area about 4 hours early. We had to share the flight with a rabbit (which may explain my huge allergy attack that lasted the whole flight), and the cats, albeit sedated, cried like there was no tomorrow for the duration. But we all made it.
There's plenty to tell about the actual move-in process, but I will save that for later. I'm stuck on the improbabilities. Next in my list is genuine human decency in a U-haul employee. It turns out that we, unaccustomed to the ways of the South, may have made a bit of a blunder when it came time to decide that a 28-foot truck really would not fit on our little street. I have since been told that we can park anything that moves in our street and nobody will say boo. (I'll keep that in mind when I need a combine...). Anyhow, we decided to take a reasonably-sized U-haul that would fit in our driveway to Durham load our stuff from the terminal. This meant hiring some muscle to help us, because we had only a few hours in which to accomplish 2 truckloads.
Well, we managed to get a truck from a local self-storage place. The woman who helped us genuinely tried to HELP us--figuring out how she could make everything cost as little as possible and work as conveniently as possible. We left with some keys, recommendations of moving help, and the feeling that we had made a friend.
When we arrived we had no stove and we still have no refrigerator. That has made domesticity a bit more of a challenge. I'm keeping a few perishables on ice and making frequent small grocery purchases... much like people used to do. This lends an air of quaintness to the whole small town life we have moved into. Somehow it's okay here... even though the same arrangement in CA would have driven me crazy. I made dinner for two nights yesterday, and I even baked a cake. I plan to make bread this morning to go with the slow-cooked supper I started yesterday.
However, before domesticity became practical, we did a little bit of eating out. Here's where the third improbability arises. One night we found ourselves at Sonic, "America's Drive-in," and what appears to be the local teen hangout after polite hours. They have a menu full of burgers and dogs and cold treats, and you order from your car or from a speaker system near your outdoor table. I ordered Iced Tea. However, I ordered the very unorthodox "unsweet" variety and was very specific when ordering. When my drink was delivered, it was sweet. I told the nice young man that while it was delicious, I did, in fact, want the unsweet tea. He looked at me like I had 17 eyes. He then rather reluctantly and suspiciously suggested that if I *really* wanted he could bring me some unsweet tea. I apologized and insisted that I really *did* want the unsweet variety. So he repeated that he could take my cup and bring it back with unsweet tea, and then he waited for encouragement. I encouraged him, and he walked away with my cup, shaking his head all the while. He returned, handed me my cup, and waited while I sipped on the fresh drink. He then said, "I can bring you sugar packets so you can sweeten that up..." I thanked him for his offer and insisted that although I realized it was crazy, I actually like my tea that way. Again, he walked away with a look of total bewilderment. I think I may have scarred him for life.
Ah well... life here is different. It's gentler somehow, and I have already found myself slowing down a bit. Waiting in a long grocery line seems less of a crime. Looking at a stranger and smiling is a good thing. Sitting outdoors on the porch in the evening is the norm... and it won't get you shot. The improbable has become possible, and it is providing a much-needed change in perspective. I think I'll pour myself another glass of unsweet tea...
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