We have a big tub of sour cream in the fridge with a sell-by date of April 16th and I realized the other day that I won’t ever buy another tub of sour cream in America. That one will last us until it’s time to leave. Sounds stupid, but things like that strike you all the time when you’re about to make such a big move. Everything is a countdown – the last time you’ll see that person, the last time you’ll go that place – and all the stuff that usually seems so permanent suddenly seems like what it is – just where you are today.
We booked our flights last week – the cats too. We’ve ordered their travel crates. We’ve booked the moving company. We’re in the process of opening a UK bank account. And we’re making lists and notes everywhere. Don’t forget to cancel the health insurance policy. Must remember to have our mail forwarded. Wonder when we should sell the car. Mustn’t forget to load up my iPad with movies for the flight. Damn, we still don’t have our UK national insurance numbers – must call again. And of course we’re still looking for a home, so I spend at least a hour every day scouring property sites looking for new listings.
We found a great place last week – an old stone cottage, all wood burners and stone walls and beams. But our offer was rejected when they got one from a family member and so the search goes on.
It’s less than 7 weeks now until we leave. We fly on Friday 13th (yeah, I know) and the house sale closes the following Monday. By Monday night, the new owners will have moved in here and we’ll be on our third day in Knaresborough. Oh and it will finally be time to throw away the sour cream.