…Because you see, we made plans. And as we all know, nothing makes the universe chuckle more than a plan.

First we planned on leaving on Sunday. It was a Sunday, it was the new moon: I just couldn’t resist starting with all that beginning around me. But then I ordered this folding bike, and although their shipping page said it should get to me before the end of last week, Fedex said that it would arrive on Tuesday. Which it did. So, the plan changed. The plan became, we’ll get everything ready Monday and Tuesday, and the minute the bike gets here we’ll put it in the car and leave.

However, Husband’s family participates in this American ritual that is completely foreign to me: Memorial Day. You know what I know about Memorial Day? I know that it’s sometime in summer, and it’s when the pools open. That’s it. Oh, and that it’s about wars and veterans, I think. My grandfather joined seminary in order to get out of World War II–and that’s the one war that most people agree was justified.

My family never, ever celebrated Memorial Day. He told me on the day that he wanted me to come with him for emotional support. I told him I would, but that it was as foreign to me as puja in a Hindu temple. Later I retracted this: actually, I would have some idea of what to do at puja.

To cut the story shorter, we slept in because we’ve been exhausted, woke, packed a little, and then went to St. Albans. We ended up picking up my mother-in-law on the way. And driving through an amazing thunderstorm. The whole visitation thing ended up taking the rest of the daylight. That was Monday.

Tuesday I woke early, determined not to miss my bike. We got breakfast and spent the day running errands and packing–running around not unlike headless chickens. Bike showed up. We ate lunch with my sister who lives in town. She needed help moving some of her stuff out of her current place, into a friend’s place where she’s storing it while she deals with the mess her ex left her. We took a long break/BS session in the midst of this, and all told that took the rest of the day. More wonderful, thrilling thunderstorms. Pleas to not drive out tonight/die on the highway. Apartment still strewn with much matter.

We went home. I was filled with adrenalin and nervous energy, and so continued to work until sometime past midnight. Husband had gotten up even before me, and was bone-weary. Eventually, I have no idea when, we collapsed. Our dear, dear, incredibly wonderful friend John got up early the next morning and helped us some more. He’s bringing me lunch right now.

So, it’s after two. Husband is helping my sister move another load of stuff, and then we’re going over the apartment one last time, and then, in theory, we’ll pack the car and head out.

I love to laugh and understand that the universe does as well, but just for today let’s hope for some sobriety, shall we?