Just a quick pop in to let you know that the moving truck arrived on schedule yesterday — so much depends on tides, the barge, the tugboat that pushes the barge, the one that pulls it, that there’s room for some anxiety, especially if you’ve a talent in the Worry department. . .
And although we’d run out of moving tape before the last two boxes were sealed, and had resorted, comically if desperately, to Scotch tape, the movers were impressed overall by our organisation and the quality of our packing — and Paul was equally impressed by their professionalism, especially the care they took with my grand piano. . . .
Of course, I’m telling you this all second-hand, as I got myself off island before the truck arrived. As I told Paul, and as he heartily agreed, I couldn’t see that my Worrying would contribute anything positive to the project, so I’d arranged to meet a friend for lunch before I visited the lawyer’s for signing, then met another friend for tea. Distraction. All distraction. Worked a treat, and we got through our respective days and met up at the hotel we’d arranged to spend the night in, our bed now in pieces in a truck. . .
We had dinner together, debriefed about the day, and then collapsed into sleep happily, not long after 9:30, exhausted and relieved at having this important first stage done.
Until 2 a.m. when I woke and remembered that he’d mentioned having brought over some of the bins I’d packed with items NOT to go with the movers. Items I knew we’d want to have at hand over the next three months in the transitional small-apartment space while waiting for the sellers to move out of our next home. Items such as my DSLR camera, the next few books on my reading list, that loom I want to teach Nola to use, my sketching supplies. But also financial records, details about service providers, account information. . . Until yesterday afternoon when I’d transferred it to my purse, my passport was in there as well.
Anyway, at 2 a.m., I remembered that he brought one of the bins over on the boat with him along with bags full of garbage he’d popped in the dumpster, my little suitcase which we’d put in the trunk of the car. And I realised that although we’d planned to go back to the boat and move the bin to the car, we’d succumbed to fatigue instead. So at 2 a.m., with Pater sound asleep in bed next to me after a long, physically and emotionally exhausting day, I was wide awake wondering which bin he’d grabbed and what particular theft-worthy items were packed in it, and how inconvenient or disastrous their loss would be.
By 2:30, still awake, I was trying to determine whether I could dress quietly and go down to the boat myself and move the bin to the car. Both were within two city blocks of the hotel, and the area is well lit, and although the docks might feel slightly unsafe, I’ve never felt uncomfortable on them at night. Never been on them at 2:30 in the morning by myself, though, plus I knew that as soon as I started to dress, Pater would wake, and he’d feel he had to go instead, which would defeat my whole purpose of trying not to cost him sleep.
And, of course, in all this fretting, there was some shifting around, and I ended up waking him after all. At first concerned that I was having a tough time sleeping because of the emotions of moving, he was prepared to be calming and reassuring and supportive. He found that a bit tougher to sustain when he realised I was actually wanting a wee-hours adventure because I couldn’t stop worrying about something he considered highly unlikely.
Well, dear readers, I’m not sure if you would fall on the side of the partner who would leave potentially important and valuable items inside the covered portion of a boat on an unlocked dock OR if you might take sides with the Designated Worrier of the couple. . . .
But if you had been downtown Nanaimo last night, peering out your window at 3 in the morning, you might have spotted a certain couple, of a certain age, bearing evidence of hasty dress, her hair even mussier than usual, walking through the quiet streets. At first, you might have noticed a certain tension between them, her face apologetic, a bit anxious, his quite terse, determined, perhaps a bit resigned. As they came back from the harbour, however, he carrying a heavy-looking Rubbermaid storage bin, she carrying a large red bag obviously full of sundry goods, you would have noticed that her features now registered relief and gratitude, his were beginning to relax into appeasement. They headed into the car park, and when they came back out, empty-handed, you would have noted that they were talking intently, and that he reached for her hand, which she yielded happily. By the time the desk clerk saw them waiting at the elevator a few minutes later, they looked as if they’d just come back from an impulsive, romantic late-night stroll. . . .
And in case you think that’s the Happy Ending, there’s more. When they woke again the next morning, the clock read 8:10. So they’re well-rested for their last day of moving. Cleaning and handing over the keys are underway by the time you read this, and by tonight they’ll be on a big ferry, ready to begin a whole new chapter. . .
Comments welcome, as always, but I am curious whether you would have been able to say, “Oh, it’s probably safe enough. I’ll check in the morning” or whether you, too, would have insisted on a wee-hours transfer to locked storage.
Oh Mater, I'm sure I can match you in the worrying department – I would have woken my husband up!! :0) Glad that everything turned out well though. All the best for the rest of the move.
Thanks, Patricia. Glad to know I have a worrying companion 😉
We would have been exactly like you and Pater …me worrying and hubby sure everything would be fine on the boat. He leaves things in the car when we travel …I have to bring everything into the hotel! Years ago, in the middle of the night during a heavy snowstorm our home phone rang a few times intermittently ( pre mobile phones) I became convinced something was wrong with my mum …especially when I couldn't contact her. Luckily she was only a few miles away …so off we went driving through the snow and of course she was fine …apart from shocked at being woken up!! So glad that you managed to get some sleep after your nighttime stroll!
Bon Voyage! Here's to new beginnings …
Rosie
Oh Rosie! That's a great story — your mom will certainly know she's well cared for!
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Exactly the same division as you. And exactly the same "would do pretty much anything to stop her worrying herself silly" on his part.
My heart was in my mouth as I read…
Yes, I really have to give him credit for that willing accommodation.
Glad to know I'm not the only one who needs to still a worry through action.
Even after almost 38 years of marriage, I don't know how this scenario twould have worked out for us. Don't know if that's good or bad but it is honest.
This is a masterful piece of writing! Suspense, comedy, and high anticipation! May your new chapter begin with…"And they lived happily ever after."
Much appreciation for your sharing…
Charlene H.
Good to have some mysteries at 38 years marriage, I'd say, Charlene.
Thanks for the kind words about the writing!
I have no idea what I'd do – what an interesting question. I think I'd go get the bin. And weirdly, if my husband knew I was motivating the walk, I sense he'd resist. But if he thought of it for himself, he'd have totally gone after it.
BTW: I'm somewhat adventurous with my night walking but I do think that would have been unsafe to do alone. Carrying a heavy box could make you a target and slow you down. Of course, I don't know the town, but pls be careful!
The thing is, if it were during the day and I had a ton of things to do, I probably would have just left it, but I've a tendency to insomnia, much worsened by the confines of a hotel room. Chuckling at your puzzle over the nuanced politics of would he, wouldn't he?
And yeah, I don't worry much about night walking, but the docks could be iffy, although generally pretty safe.
I love your writing, Frances – so vivid and gently humorous. This is a great story. I would have gone to get the bin. Couldn't risk losing that loom!
So kind of you re the writing, Marie. I appreciate the encouragement. And yes, the loom, definitely a priority to keep out of the hands of thieves! 😉
Oh, definitely would have chosen the transfer to locked storage, no matter the hour. There would have been no resignation or appeasement involved in our case, either — we're both consummate worriers. (Our poor daughter, with a double dose!)
I hope this is the biggest hiccup you encounter in the moving process!
A family of worriers — at least I'd have company! 😉
And it did, indeed, turn out to be the biggest hiccup — lucky us!
Oh I'd have been right there with you in the wee hours. I have a post doc in worrying. You did the only thing possible. No need to convince me!
So glad that things went smoothly otherwise. Now you are really on the move!
It's a growing crowd of worriers, isn't it?! I'm feeling quite vindicated. And yes, we really are.. . perhaps a visit on this side, one of these days. . .
I would go immediately! Ad once! After two and a half minutes of worry!
That was a story! I could feel any part of it! So happy that everything ends well-happily ever after !(agree with Charlene :-))
I hope that you are going to sleep safely in your bed right now-with all the right boxes near you!
Dottoressa
Thank you!
And yes, we are safely ensconced in our Vancouver apartment now, sleeping soundly enough (except for the road construction just outside!)
Oh I'd have been right there with you in the wee hours. I have a post doc in worrying. You did the only thing possible. No need to convince me!
So glad that things went smoothly otherwise. Now you are really on the move!
We're a big camp, we worriers, aren't we?!
You would have done the same as me. I would never trust to chance. Well that's a tale to retell to the family. No doubt they will shriek with laughter. I can picture it now! Hope the rest of your week goes smoothly, with maybe a little more sleep than last night 🙂 B xx
Yes, I suspect Pater will make rather a droll story out of this, and I also suspect who the laughter will be directed at. . . at least now I know I have company in my worrying tendencies.
We have so many conversations along these lines, me fretting, him saying it's not a problem… All too often, I was right to worry, but sometimes I let myself be talked into letting it go for now then regret it. A fairly typical male/female divide I think. Glad it's all going ahead Frances x
It's true, Marianne, there are many times when my anticipation of potential problems has paid off. In fact, I think that we could do ourselves a big favour by framing our "worrying" this way, instead of using this term which tends to diminish our concerns as foolish and non-productive.
OH I would not have been able to sleep either…good though that you took pater with you….much safer and you would have had to make two trips by the sounds of it.
Moving ahead to the next chapter and holding hands….such a lovely image!
We're turning the page here, yes we are! 😉
I would have gone down, definitely. With a weapon, like a flashlight, which I would have wielded highly inefficiently. You paint a lovely picture of what could have been a very vexing, crab-inspiring event. Sleep well.
I'm sure you'd have been fearsome! Especially if you'd assumed one of your ferocious and brilliant alter egos! 😉
Hmm – not sure that the bins are safer in a Nanaimo hotel underground parking than in the boat. but I would have worried for a second, snuggled up, and gone back to sleep! Glad you did what was right for you – and congrats on an-almost done "ginormous" move.
We've parked our car in the same Nanaimo hotel underground parking for the last 15 or so years and only had one smashed-window episode. Not a bad record, and the car is much less desirable a target in its old age. The boat docks, on the other hand, are regular targets for petty theft. A neighbour's boat has been stolen — twice! — in the last several weeks, and several other neighbours have had fuel cans, life jackets, portable pumps taken. The risk of having our personal financial information taken by one of those petty thieves was more than I could bear and the lost sleep well worth it. I'm envious of you and Pater that you can sleep with such a risk. I just can't. Thanks for the congrats. It did feel "ginormous" but I can already feel the proportions beginning to diminish as all begins to fall into (a new) place.
Gosh, I am clearly very much in the minority here. I would have been the "it will be fine" person and my husband would have been out of bed and walking the streets. Odd isn't it?i could no more adopt his approach than he could assume mine but we get along.
Aw so sweet. I'd have been like Elizabeth:).
Another odd person out. I'd have been the one not to worry…