A move to Cambridge.
It started at 7:30 Am Wednesday Jan 3 2018, a clear morning I think. The sky was black-black. It being so early that either the sun had gone out or we are in the middle of winter in Canada, where in the wisdom of governments we are subjected to delight savings. If we have been saving all this time, don’t I get some back as a dutiful Goldie Oldie? No. The scant sliver of daily sunlight in Northern climes is reserved for Kindergarten children who come home at 2:00PM while their parents are subjected to this merciless cold blackness. I think hell was invented by people from southern hemisphere. Cold and black is Hell.
The drive started well enough with our little electric car struggling under the weight of Diana’s 10 suitcases, I had exactly one suitcase. I figured I could wash my underwear at at least once in a year.
Again I struggled with the concept of Border crossings and a car packed to the gills. The potential of being made to take it all apart again to find that sliver of space required for Diana’s 7th carry-on bag. Cars are like airlines they only allow one carry-on. Every flying woman boarding a plane I have ever seen has at least seven carry-ons. To my complete joy and possible orgasmic relief the Homeland Security Chap took our visas and passports, give them back and with a smile waved us on. Yes, he did. God knows our car was so laden-down it could have been full of smuggled genuine Ontario Maple Syrup. This being a complete falsehood because the real Maple Syrup suff comes from Quebec.
The roads and weather were fine. Always leave before the storm. The American media was in anti-fake news frenzy as they reiterated the “Bomb Storm” was coming to Boston. It seems the Meteorologists invent a new word for interesting weather patters every year. Last year it was “A Polar Vortex”. Do they think we are stupid? Its a “Snow Storm” . Thats it.
Our little Tesla surged on bravely and asked for electron feeding stops at regular intervals, which mercifully did away with the usual female banter of suggesting that driver (me) needs a coffee. The phrase is a common feature in the female of the species, and translates to,“stop the car I want to pee”. Now, I went to an all boys school, where we learn with avid ardour the nuances of women. We males, after many years, have learnt this turn of phrase, if not at our peril.
Diana had an uncontrollable urge to use her 15,000 words/day as we drove down from Toronto. The unbridled loquaciousness all started by reading out loud every single road signs to me as we drove for 1000 kilometres. Men can actually drive a car with out talking…all the time!. We just think dirty thoughts to stay awake.
However, in her defence she did buy food at one of the charging stops in preparation for the “Bomb Storm” so yesterday we set up house. The down side is the food selection. No English muffins and Marmalade oozing with butter. Diana has decided we are on a diet for 30 days. The worst of which is, no wine…at all…Oh My God, I don’t beleive it! How will I ever survive?
Arrived at 10:30 PM un-packed car and slid into cold sheets to dream about the ensuing “Snow Bomb”.