Tomorrow is big day…we move out of the country, off the gravel road, back into a city, where we belong. We are happy, tired as all heck of the process of moving, but looking forward to our new place, our new neighborhood.
We’ve discovered that the neighbors next door have 2 young kids and that the neighbor across the street has grandsons around Miles age who come over every weekend, so I’m hopeful that he’ll have buddies to play with.
Our neighborhood looks to be ethnically mixed, which is important to us, and we can walk to the grocery store. All good things.
So, perhaps we’ve been a little too vocal about our enthusiasm for the new place. It appears that we’ve hurt the country’s feelings. And, apparently, the country doesn’t take having its feelings hurt lightly.
We were driving home tonight, our last night driving home on the gravel road, when a big truck went flying by (one of our chief complaints about the country–people drive like jackasses on the unpatrolled county roads) and PING!! a piece of gravel hits the windshield of our less than 3 month old car. CRACK.
So, yeah, our windshield has a nice crack in it. If the crack is smaller than a dollar bill the glass company can fix it and it doesn’t cost us anything. If it spreads, we’re out $500. It is still smaller than a dollar bill but they can’t fix it until Tuesday and we have to drive it back and forth a few times this weekend, so I suspect it will spread some more. I’m figuring we’ll be out the $500 (which is awesome. I hate having extra money just lying around the old bank account).
I’m not saying anything else mean about the country between now and tomorrow. Last thing I need is a U-haul truck sinking in the mud or the porch collapsing under the weight of our moving furniture…
Oh crap. I’m giving the country ideas. Never mind.