So, the movers finally arrived on Sunday; they took more than 3 hours to pack a small 12′ truck with my possessions. Meanwhile, I’d rented a 15′ truck to take stuff out to my aunt in Front Royal (about 70 miles away), and tapped my foot impatiently while I waited for the movers to finish so I could get going.
All this time, I’d heard nothing from the car carrier.
Fate stepped in and dealt a very strange card from somewhere in the oddly shuffled deck. That evening, I returned the truck to the rental place and walked home. I headed for my car to go find a hotel room, when a car pulled into the parking lot and honked at me… it was B.
You remember B, right?
If he’d come 5 minutes earlier, I’d have been walking back from the rental place. 5 minutes later and I’d have been gone to a hotel.
But because of that tiny window of fateful opportunity, I had a very sweet and romantic goodbye. I had not contacted him to tell of my pending move, so he was a bit surprised. And if he’d been in DC one weekend later, I’d have been 3000 miles away.
Maybe my luck is changing, eh?
At least, I thought that until yesterday, when the car carrier still hadn’t called. They gave me a window of Saturday through Monday; finally I got hold of someone who told me — and I quote — “I had heard you weren’t ready for the pickup yet.” She had heard? What, there was some rumor going around?
Another long, long story short: they are going to come today (hopefully) and pick it up from my dad’s house (where I stayed last night).
God only knows when (or if) my stuff will make it to San Jose. As for me, I’ll be there tonight — 9pm, midnight Eastern time. As of tonight, I’ll be permanently living 3 hours in the past. But I don’t think I’ll feel the need to be ahead anymore.
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