The Middle Muddle, Twelve Years Later

There are  two ways of  arriving at a beach.  The first is to say “Wow!  I’m here!  This is great!”  The second is, “Man, this is a hassle!” as you slog through calf-deep sand, carrying everything you wanted to bring.  Right now, I am in that sand.  I can see the fun, beauty  and excitement ahead but I am not there yet.

On the home front, my condo is on the market, with immediate nibbles that suggest a quick sale.  I’ve gotten what I am taking with me to British Columbia down to what will fit in the car. All of that is good, but getting my furniture and my son’s  things that were in my storage unit to his new place in a Phoenix has been a horror story. Eleven days later, after charging me well over an additional grand for this and that, the moving company still hasn’t managed the 350 mile drive, and Ivan, with a broken shoulder in need of surgery  (and the necessary medical records in the van) has been camping in his apartment, sleeping on an air mattress and sitting in a collapsible chair for the entire time, which by the way is now in the fifth day beyond the guaranteed delivery date.  Note to all:  Never use Cross Country Movers, or Evergreen Relocation Services, unless you relish spending time later in Small Claims Court, where this is headed.

Within a few days, I am hopeful Ivan will have his furniture and my condo will be in escrow.  That brings me to my other set of issues associated with  driving to Canada.  I need title to my car in order to take it across the border, and nothing, of course, is ever easy to obtain from a bureaucracy, especially during a pandemic.  I am hopeful I will have it before the end of the month, but I can’t leave until then, except by going to the quite drastic backup plan of going without it and flying back to get it later.  Two  fourteen-day quarantines for two entries , no car while there, need to ship at least some of what would fit in the car—not a lovely Plan B.

Finally, in the “My Kingdom for a Horse” category, there’s the last small but essential detail— new glasses.  In the last year I have developed some pretty significant double vision, and though after my cataract surgery I haven’t needed glasses, I really don’t think I can drive anymore without them, not because I can’t see cars well enough to stay safe, but because I can’t read the road signs.  It’s been okay in San Diego, where I know my way around, but once I get past the Central Valley of California, I am in unfamiliar driving territory.  They tell me that because of reduced staffing, the glasses will take from 2-3 weeks to arrive.  Lemons to lemonade—I felt lucky even to get an eye exam with Covid restrictions!  And if I have to wait a little longer so that someone who truly can’t see without glasses gets served first, so be it.

So, if everything goes brilliantly, I will be out by the end of this month, and if it goes not quite so well, early August.  I am trying not to obsess about it being any longer.  Often I succeed, except, of course, when I am trying to go to sleep.

I remembered many years ago writing a post I called “The Middle Muddle,.” a state that feels very much like now.  I went back to see what I wrote and was surprised to see that it was my very first blog post ever, and  it has been almost 12 years since I posted it.  Wow!  Well over a decade and more than 300 posts later, I wondered what that me was saying about my life as I waited in the interminable period between being done with my first novel, The Four Seasons, and waiting for it to come out.   If you are interested, You can find it here: https://www.laurelcorona.com/3/

I ended that post with a message from Laurel 2008 to Laurel 2020:  “What have I been up to, here in the middle muddle? Being amazed, thrilled, and grateful for everything that had to go right to find myself here on this beautiful road, just waiting for “much more” to pull up and offer me a ride.”

Still rings true, although this time I’ll be driving the car.  And maybe along the way, I’ll stop at a beach.