Joie de Vivre
I had my final interview for the Vancouver position today, and all seems well in that regard. I still can't quite believe I'm following through with this, nor can my friends, who have long since started waving white flags against the barrage of Canadian trivia.
"Did you know that Canada has the third. . . ."
". . . longest life expectancy in the world. Yes, we know."
I've reached the point where I'm a little self-conscious about my enthusiasm, but only so in front of others, and allow myself to continue on this gleeful little relocation frenzy unabated when no one's watching.
To further fuel the addiction, an outing that initiated as a trip to Target to pick up some packing materials permanently detoured into an evening at Borders reading a book about Canadian history, politics, and culture (which, contrary to belief around here, is not simply American culture plus flannel and snow), sipping coffee out of a beer mug, and listening to a girl in the cafe playing the guitar and singing plaintive songs about loneliness and grief.
"Why don't I do this anymore?" I asked myself. I felt like I had rediscovered a piece of my roots I'd long forgotten.
After having finished the whole little book, I dropped a few dollars in the girl's [empty] tip jar, and headed home.
I have only a rough idea so far when my start date at the new job will be, as my work-permit paperwork seems to be caught up in Canadian immigrations. So for now I'm told to hang tight, and not book any plane tickets or anything until they're sure. It makes the packing process a little bit of a mixed priority — I'm afraid to pack up too many things which might stave off potential boredom should my permit be delayed a few more weeks, but I still like the feeling of my home looking like a stack of boxes rather than a flea market, as it currently sort of does. It imparts a certain freedom of knowing exactly how much stuff I have to move, and being flexible to move whenever they're ready for me.
The biggest decision currently facing me is whether to take my company up on their offer to give me a free place to stay for a month while I look for an ideal home (a nice idea), or if it makes more sense to avoid having to move twice and to perform a fair amount of cat-juggling (they're not sure whether my temporary arrangements will allow pets) to simply research an apartment from here and see if I can get a 6 month lease or something so that I'm not stuck with it if I hate it.
A close second as far as decisions go is whether I should drive up (it would be an epic road trip, including a chance to drop in on my brother in Wyoming/Idaho, but with some logistical disadvantages — see Cat Juggling above), or if it's better to just ship the car, or at worst sell it, and fly myself and my feline up there. Allegedly the company has a relocation team to help with this kind of thing, but I haven't heard from them yet — the time is quickly approaching for me to track them down myself.
It'll all work out one way or the other, I'm sure.
"Did you know that Canada has the third. . . ."
". . . longest life expectancy in the world. Yes, we know."
I've reached the point where I'm a little self-conscious about my enthusiasm, but only so in front of others, and allow myself to continue on this gleeful little relocation frenzy unabated when no one's watching.
To further fuel the addiction, an outing that initiated as a trip to Target to pick up some packing materials permanently detoured into an evening at Borders reading a book about Canadian history, politics, and culture (which, contrary to belief around here, is not simply American culture plus flannel and snow), sipping coffee out of a beer mug, and listening to a girl in the cafe playing the guitar and singing plaintive songs about loneliness and grief.
"Why don't I do this anymore?" I asked myself. I felt like I had rediscovered a piece of my roots I'd long forgotten.
After having finished the whole little book, I dropped a few dollars in the girl's [empty] tip jar, and headed home.
I have only a rough idea so far when my start date at the new job will be, as my work-permit paperwork seems to be caught up in Canadian immigrations. So for now I'm told to hang tight, and not book any plane tickets or anything until they're sure. It makes the packing process a little bit of a mixed priority — I'm afraid to pack up too many things which might stave off potential boredom should my permit be delayed a few more weeks, but I still like the feeling of my home looking like a stack of boxes rather than a flea market, as it currently sort of does. It imparts a certain freedom of knowing exactly how much stuff I have to move, and being flexible to move whenever they're ready for me.
The biggest decision currently facing me is whether to take my company up on their offer to give me a free place to stay for a month while I look for an ideal home (a nice idea), or if it makes more sense to avoid having to move twice and to perform a fair amount of cat-juggling (they're not sure whether my temporary arrangements will allow pets) to simply research an apartment from here and see if I can get a 6 month lease or something so that I'm not stuck with it if I hate it.
A close second as far as decisions go is whether I should drive up (it would be an epic road trip, including a chance to drop in on my brother in Wyoming/Idaho, but with some logistical disadvantages — see Cat Juggling above), or if it's better to just ship the car, or at worst sell it, and fly myself and my feline up there. Allegedly the company has a relocation team to help with this kind of thing, but I haven't heard from them yet — the time is quickly approaching for me to track them down myself.
It'll all work out one way or the other, I'm sure.