Mental whiplash

Well. It took less than twelve hours from the time of my last post for plans to radically change. Even I am surprised at the high-speed 180, and laughing about it.

In an ironic way. But, still, laughing!

Otherwise indomitable Kiwi buddy called me sobbing early yesterday. Her partner, who is not moving to New Zealand with the rest of the family, decided at 3:00 AM, after waking her out of a fitful night's sleep, that even though he had previously arranged with the realtors to take the apartment in town, he simply could not afford to live anywhere but at their house. She spent the remainder of the night sleepless knowing she would not only have to break the very bad news to me, but also deal with the movers who were coming at 9:00 AM to pack her up, and try to locate her daughter's missing passport which hopefully had not been unwittingly tucked into one of the thirty-six boxes destined for the moving van.

No worries! as they say here. I raced over to lend some support. The passport was found, fridges were emptied and wiped out, shoes were scrubbed of all traces of soil, miscellaneous overlooked items pointed out and packed, pets rehoused (her partner will keep Asha until we are ready to return to the States), groceries bought, and even an orthodontic appointment remembered at the very last moment kept. Lots of coffee was consumed.

C'est la vie.


The best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry.

-- Robert Burns