So the bohemian dream of living footloose and fancy free, adventuring all over the world with our kids in tow, has been soured with a reality check: we are all as sick as dogs (I have not been this sick in YEARS), not to mention homeless, having moved out of our former abode and now living out of suitcases at my sister’s house. My passport is still lost with neither Australia Post nor the US Consulate willing to take responsibility, my flights are cancelled and I’m all but crossing everything that it will all get sorted out by Friday.
In other words, living the dream seems at this point to be rather overrated.
Anyway, on the upside, it means I’ve had plenty of snuggling time in bed with my darling sick babies, I am truly relieved that I’m NOT doing the long-haul flight while my chest is raw as an open-mike stand-up and my nose is running like a Tanzanian Olympian and I’ve subsequently had a valid excuse to spend three days straight with my wonderful sister.
Plus we had a kick-ass goodbye party the other night (Mezz, I sent you an e-mail and a text with the change of venue, the bowls club just round the corner?!?!?! Apparently more proof of my shocking luck of late…) and as Tim said to me last night: “Even though rationally speaking, it seems like we’re completely and utterly screwed, I just have this feeling deep down that everything is going to be okay. Don’t you?”
I thought about it. “Yeah,” I said. “It defies all logic, but I totally do.”
Then again, that could just be the Codral talking.