July 30, 2007

MONDAY, JULY 30TH, 2007

The waiting is the hardest part
Every day you see one more card
You take it on faith, you take it to the heart
The waiting is the hardest part...

- Tom Petty, The Waiting


Caution: Whining Alert!

I pretty sure the only thing worse than waiting for your house to close in S. Florida's real estate market, would be waiting for a kidney transplant. I am waiting now for the days to tick by slowly and for the phone call that will give me a closing date.
Field trips at the museum, where my patience with the kids has run down to next to nothing, have become excruciating . On good days I don't care anymore that the kids aren't listening and are touching every damn thing in sight and straggling along, checking their cell phones and yakking amongst themselves. On not so good days, when the frustration of my situation boils to the surface, I ask the other guide to do the tour while I watch for kids who either can't read or don't care about all of the posted "Please do not touch" signs in the model train room. Those are the days I don't trust myself not to blurt out something that I won't even have the decency to regret.
As far as the sale of the house goes, when the buyer calls, which is frequently, I brace myself for either something great ("We have a closing date and time!") or something horrible ("I've decided to move back to my country and I don't want the house anymore, sue me."). Usually it's just some random question about the house.
Other than work, I've been going to lots of kid movies with my daughter and trying to keep the house as neat as possible. I can't pack much more until I call for some boxes from the shippers. I can't get rid of the last of the big yard sale stuff (captain's chair, huge terra cotta pots, tv's, desk, mower, etc.) 'cause it's still being used. I'm trying to use everything in the fridge, freezer and pantry so I won't have much to throw out at the last minute. Everything that could be done well in advance has been done.
I am doomed to twist in the wind until I get that closing date. At that point, my tickets to fly out will be purchased. The shippers will be scheduled. The boxes will be requested. The dogs will be groomed and their health certificates issued. Assorted last minute items will be purchased to ship. I expect much scrambling around and lots of good-byes. The movers will come to load my life into a 20-foot container and it'll be over.
For right now, I don't want to think too much about what will surely be a logistical nightmare: the trip to the airport and boarding in Miami and the circus that will await me at customs in San Jose. I just keep telling myself that if Hannibal managed to schlep a bunch of elephants over the Alps, I can damn well handle a five year-old, three dogs, 6 70-lb.bins and 4 carry-ons. Let's just get this part over with. Later, I'll think about all of the crap I'm gonna have to do (in Spanish, no less) to get settled down there, oy!