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The immutable laws of moving

Moving, as with any other major life event, is subject to certain immutable and universal laws. Things will break or be lost along the way, not the least of which may be ones own mental integrity and will to live to see another relocation.

This move is no different from any other. In terms of the actual physical process, (knock) so far, things have gone relatively smoothly (/knock). Our household furniture and effects have been safely packed away and are currently sitting in a storage facility somewhere between our point of origin and our final destination. The one thing that didn't go smoothly, and which has therefore snowballed to ensure that other things won't go smoothly, was that we were not able to negotiate door-to-door closing dates.

You see, The Powers That Be who decided it was time for us to go firmly believe that they can exert their will not only on us, the movees, but also on anyone we might encounter during the relocation process; for example, the people buying our old house and the ones from whom we must buy our new house. Apparently, probably through some sort of a Vulcan mind meld, we should have been able to convince the young family leaving their suburban townhome to pack up their lives a full month-and-a-half earlier than they had originally wanted to. Either that, or we should have been willing to walk away from that house (the one suitable home within our price range in this ridiculously overpriced city) and find somewhere else to live, or refuse the only offer we received on our previous home because the closing date those buyers wanted was too early. This clearly illustrates that The Powers That Be have no concept of the realities of realty in the off season. You take what you can get, both buying AND selling. As a seller, there weren't a lot of buyers out looking. As a buyer, there weren't a lot of properties for us to choose from.

And so, Capt Mike, the puppies, and I bit the proverbial bullet and ended up with a lag time of 15 days between closings. At most we thought we'd have to shell out a few hundred bucks for storage. Little did we know it would cause a ripple effect that could potentially cost us close to $10 000.

You see, we have a portable mortgage with TD Canada Trust. We got a portable mortgage specifically because The Powers That Be insist you make every reasonable effort to do so given the nature of our ever-relocating lifestyle. We figured it was worth doing, since it theoretically meant that even if we had to move in the middle of our term, we'd be able to port the mortgage to a new property and avoid paying any penalties or interest differentials. Notice my emphasis of the word "theoretically". You see, despite having a portable mortgage, and despite porting it to the new property, TD Canada Trust charged us $10 000 in interest differential on the closing of the sale of our previous home. We got a cheque from our lawyer for $10 000 less than we had expected. We have $10 000 less to put towards our downpayment for the property we're closing on in a little over one week. I don't know about the average reader of this blog, but let me tell you that $10 000 isn't exactly chump change in the Saedighverse. Capt Mike and I can hardly go rooting around between the couch cushions in the crummy apartment for that kind of cash. Needless to say, I am a little anxious.

Since last Wednesday, when we noticed the discrepancy, I have been in contact with most of the employees of the TD Canada Trust branch in Quinte West several times. They have repeatedly assured me that we were charged this penalty in error because the system didn't understand why the two closings weren't simultaneous, and that we would be reimbursed. Unfortunately, no one is able to tell me when we will be reimbursed or how we will be reimbursed. No one is able to give me any assurance whatsoever that those funds will be available to us in some form or another to put towards the downpayment we have to hand over to our lawyer on December 30th. That's next Thursday. It's currently December 21st. Christmas and Boxing Day fall on the weekend, so Monday and Tuesday are bank holidays here. If this isn't sorted out before Friday, we're going to have to do some extremely creative financing to cover the shortfall and have a cheque ready for our lawyer in time.

All that to say that once our term is up on this unportable portable mortgage, Capt Mike and I will never again be customers at TD Canada Trust.

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Haute Tension

I've been a little stressed lately. Anyone who knows me well, knows I can be a worrier. If you know me really, really well, you'd probably say "worry" might even be an understatement.

Moving is stressful. Moving across an international boundary even more so. Canada and the Unites States maybe similar, but they're definitely not the same. Moving across the 49th parallel is no different, administratively or bureaucratically speaking, than moving across the Atlantic or Pacific. Ensuring that a regular move goes smoothly is a feat. Ensuring that an international move goes smoothly is an epic. Luckily, Capt Mike has been on staycation since mid-May, so he has done pretty much all of the leg and paper work involved in getting us back to the Motherland. But there's a lot to keep track of, and so I worry. I worry that we haven't filled out all of the forms we're supposed to. I worry that because we've only been down here 50 weeks, and not 52, we haven't budgeted enough for the customs taxes we could get dinged with. I worry that we will not have enough room in a 2003 Sentra to allow us to travel with two dogs for two weeks. With Dexter alone, space was tight. On the way down, we were naive. We thought our stuff would show up when it was supposed to. On our way back, we are jaded, and will be travelling with an air mattress, bedding, and camp-style cooking implements. Well, we will as long as there is room in a 2003 Sentra. I haven't measured it yet. I may have to get up early tomorrow morning to do so, just to set my mind at ease.

Knowing that you are 6 paycheques away from a year of unemployment is also stressful. Sure, we worked out a budget....but back when gasoline cost $1.15 per litre. I checked today... the lowest price in Trenton is $1.31. And it's just the beginning of summer. The price is sure to rise before I leave my job and return to school full time, a school that is 103 km away from where we live. At that price, in my Sentra, it will cost us approximately $360 per month just to get me to school and back. Luckily, that commute will not occur every month. Hopefully, my practicum placement will be closer to home...possibly even within cycling distance. Please, universe, let my practicum be within cycling distance!

I worry that I made the wrong choice. If I'd chosen to accept a college program, I wouldn't have to commute as far. We might not have needed a second car. The cost of tuition would be cheaper. I wouldn't have labs to attend every Tuesday and Thursday night, leaving my schedule ridiculously inconvenient in terms of finding part-time work. I worry that I am kidding myself, that I should not be a teacher, that I am giving up a perfectly good, decent-paying government job (that I hate) with security and benefits (that I no longer really need) for a field in which I am unproven. I worry that Whatever Is In Charge Of These Things sees me as ungrateful, someone who's blown her perfectly good chance, and is unlikely to reap any further rewards during this lifetime.

I worry.

And yet, I leap.

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This is where we used to live

I locked the door of Apt. 6 for the last time today. Katie came over and helped me clean out the fridge and mop the floors while Dexter played with Bill for the last time in the backyard. He has no idea what's going on, and has spent much of the last couple of days in his "worry ball" pose. Mike and I coined the term when we noticed he always adopted a particular posture in which to sleep when he was worried or anxious, such as the first couple of days one of us was absent, or whenever we made motions towards going out of town or packing up. He curls into as tight a little ball as he can make, and covers his nose with the white tip of his tail. The tighter the ball, the more anxious he is. We know he's truly at ease when he's able to sleep on his back with his hind legs splayed out, displaying himself for all to see. I guess that's true comfort when you're a border collie.

It's been a pretty chaotic and stressful week for humans, too. Neither Mike nor I are in posession of our passports at the moment. They're in the mail, being sent to our parents' respective places, hopefully in time for us to pick them up before crossing the border. There were some last-minute glitches in selling the truck. To get a safety certificate, we needed to get $900 worth of repairs to the parking break and ball joints. And of course, watching a bunch of people, some of them teenagers, pack up all of your worldly belongings isn't exactly a day at the spa. But, for the most part, Mike and I have kept our cool and have learned some lessons about how to do this more easily in the future, i.e., in 10 months time when we leave Virginia and come back home.

Tomorrow Dexter has his last vet appointment so that he can get his travel papers, and then we're off to pick up Mike in Bobcaygeon and then Simcoe to visit mom and dad. Tonight is our last night in Pembroke until who knows when. I think Dex and I will take one last trip to Petawawa Terrace together before we go.

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