Wednesday, August 24, 2005

The Travails of Moving

"I'd like to reconfirm my reservation for travel. Yes, I made a reservation two weeks ago. No, I am not travelling six months from now, I am travelling next week. No, I would not like the halaal meal, I would like the vegetarian meal. No, they are not the same thing." And may I mention in passing that you are not the first person to wittily drawl that it surrrre must have taken me a looong time to learn to spell that 15-letter-long last name when I was in kindergarten.

Heartache, heartache and more heartache as I try to thin out my oh-so-precious collection of books and decide which ones I can bear to get rid of.

A flood of tears as I deposit my priceless collection of Wodehouses, painstakingly collected over the last fourteen years, into a flimsy and frayed USPS sack and send them off into the unknown, to be delivered to darkest Africa eight weeks hence.

Yes, I still have my car for sale. And no, I cannot trade it in for a used laptop and $200. Or for $800 and a free ride to the rental car store. Nor can I accept a money order three times the value of the car and wire the balance back to the sender. Not even if God blesses me if I do. Oh, and if you do not have a drivers' license, you CAN NOT drive my car over to your mechanic, desi-desi bhai-bhai notwithstanding!

Packing, packing, endless packing. Is that all a suitcase can hold? WHY do I own so many clothes?

Even though you are a poor Asian post-doctoral student, I am an even poorer Asian ex-doctoral student. For this reason, I cannot sell you my fairly-new printer for $30 and throw in the microwave for free. I also will not do home deliveries on the assorted goods that I am giving away.

The woeful sight of watching the first car I owned being driven away for good. The very small compensation of flying down the interstate in a dazzling rental car that I could not afford to own.

And finally, the forlorn emptiness of vast tracts of carpet in a bare apartment, with the few, scattered remnants of my year here lying strewn across the floor.

C-13, Village South, I'll miss you.

1 Comments:

At 6:12 PM , Blogger InAustin said...

great post...i recommend you launch your hate campaign against the swindlers right from here.

 

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