Moving Saga Part 2

by Elisabeth

Whoever tagged this has done it all over my neighbourhood. I find it quite funny.

Whoever tagged this has done it all over my neighbourhood. I find it quite funny.

The airport lost one of my bags. My nerves were frayed from the last hour and half of the flight when Phyllis’s drugs wore off and she tried to break out of the cat carrier. I waffled on a continuuem of guilt at having moved her from her happy life, and fear that she would break free and run around the airplane. With my bag in the netherworld, I didn’t have any fight left. James drove us to our new home. A little garden suite in Kerrisdale. It was nighttime once we arrived but I could already smell the sweet fragrant freshness of Vancouver air. It smelled like home.


In true James-y fashion, he had an array of WASP snacks ready for me. Wine. Cheese. Gourmet crackers. Phyllis hesitated as she poked around with a new mistrust for all inanimate objects. The compounded pressure of the last few months started to pop up in several forms. I had a fresh round of rash forming under my face– fortunately under my chin and upper neck instead of my full on mug. I felt mega-tired. My thoughts were fuzzy. As much as I wanted to blog the blow-by-blow, I barely knew my own name.


The next day I made the 4 hour trek to the Victoria for Queen-Bee’s stagette. It was a lot of fun. I used to live in Victoria, and the people I ended up seeing there were friends that I see roughly once a year, when we all meet up at festival in the desert. Getting dressed up and going for cocktails is a contrasting activity to moving. Also, I got to see Nick so soon after our respective moves. He was already set up with a job, apartment, furniture and friends.


Again the question of how I felt came up, but it was hard to say. I was happy. It was like I was on vacation! And yet my cat, my luggage, and bins were waiting for me in Vancouver. I was existing in the ether– not having fully moved, yet no longer living in Montreal. On vacation from moving, visiting another life, another time.


On the Sunday, we were having an outdoor spa and champagne day which ultimately resulted in me getting a severe sunburn. So used to the sticky heat of East, I forgot about the cool, dry sunshine of the west. The kind that sneaks up on painfully caucasian skin like mine. I had burnt over my face rash! Embarrassing because of how it looked and also because I should have known better.


When I finally returned back to Vancouver, I looked forward to simply staying put. I needed to get a bed and set up my room. It was finally time to begin my new life. Unfortunately, while I was smart enough to take the week off, I was stupid enough to fill most evenings with engagements while I was still in Montreal. My dance card was already full and I had just gotten there.


Let’s catch up!


I can’t wait to see you!


It’s going to be so fun!


I had forgotten just how daunting moving can be. Because it hadn’t been daunting when I accidentally moved to Montreal and was running away from my life in Vancouver. But now with a plan of execution, I realized that socializing with friends was putting the cart before the horse. I needed to unpack. Get set up for working from home. Get oriented in my new neighbourhood. Buy hangers. Learn my address by heart.


And yet there was wine to be drunk and bread to be broken…


This is one of the pretty views of our garden (no thanks to our gardening skills.)

This is one of the pretty views of our garden (no thanks to our gardening skills.)