Yesterday, I sat near our open front door and waited all day for the overnight package from our translator so I could turn around and send it to the Spanish Consulate. Our mail carrier is flakey – a looong history of creatively avoiding bringing packages to our door and just leaving the ‘Sorry we missed you’ slip on the door when I’ve been home. Never ringing the bell and forcing me to go to the post office to collect them.
This time, I was going to outwit him. I sat on our only piece of furniture facing the door with it open. He was not going to get by me. Like any flu sufferer, I hit refresh on my laptop as I watched it get ever closer to our house. And then it stalled. Where was he? It’s like he fell off the radar. Refresh, Refresh, Refresh – Nothing.
Where could my Oh So Valuable package be? Where could this man I had to battle through high package delivery seasons like Christmas and Valentines Day? My postal nemesis was outwitting me and it wasn’t just the cold meds. Finally, I decided to walk up to the mail box and there it was. He had avoided coming to our door again and hadn’t put in the delivery status and it had been there for hours!
I grabbed it and like a wide receiver in the Super Bowl, I headed straight for the goal line a half mile away at the UPS store. Sure, I was still in my PJ’s and my hair wasn’t combed so when the UPS guy saw me come in the door wild eyed, he just shook his head. He and I know each other well.
‘Where are we sending this today?’ he asked, fingers over his key board. ‘Spain? Colorado?’
‘No. To the Spanish Consulate in Los Angeles.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Weren’t you just there on Monday?’
Yes, the people at the UPS store have seen me so many times for copies, notarization, overnight parcels that they know my schedule and visa milestones.
‘We were, but they needed one more set of bank statements.’
‘Seriously? You gave them like 1000 pages already. I copied all of them.’
‘Yeah – but they wanted more. This is the more, and it’s all been translated.’
He shook his head and put together the label and the envelope. We worked together to put it in and seal it.
‘I hate to say this, but I hope we never see each other again.’ I said
He smiled and nodded. ‘I know what you mean. I’m too emotionally tied up in your visa process. I’m going to need a break.’
I paid him and waved goodbye, trying to smooth down my hair with some sort of dignity – wandering home in my PJ’s after the adrenaline let down. Happy I could finally shut the front door and take a nap.
Today, we delivered our Audi TT to the Dealer who purchased it.
‘We have no car now.’ I lamented to Jeff tonight.
‘Yes we do. The truck is still in the driveway.’
I pulled a face.
‘Like I said, we have no car.’
‘We have one, we’re just ashamed to go out and drive around in it.’ he conceded.
He’s not wrong. We will technically be able to convey ourselves around these final two weeks – before someone who actually wants Mary Jane (our old truck) comes to pick it up – but we will not enjoy it.
On Sunday we’re heading down to Tuscon and visiting Jeff’s Mom, for the last time before we leave. I want to see her face when we pull up in it. Its not lost on me that we gave away or sold nearly everything of value. And now, the final vehicle we own is something from 1985. But the list is smaller. Only a couple more things to check off and we’re outta here.
Viva Espana 