Greetings from the greater Boston area. Thanks for all the good wishes for the move! I sure do adore you blogger-folk and appreciate your kindness.
After a grueling day of loading the truck, four unpleasant days of driving the truck, and a downright painful day of unloading the truck, I can officially say that I am moved.
I did it all with my own two little stick-arms, too. No help packing, loading, driving, or unloading. This either makes me extremely independent or entirely stupid – or stupidly independent? Whatever the case, I am already thinking that I have got to come up with a better plan for next year’s move.
I can’t say that I am, you know, unpacked. Last night I bought a frozen entree only to realize that I had no idea about my silverware's location. As a result, I made a makeshift utensil out of a Dixie cup and some foil. MacGyver has nothing on GayProf.
What to say about the journey? Oh, how about it was hell? You see, I never really enjoyed long road trips. I enjoy traveling to a new place, but would rather get there as quickly as possible. The only benefit of doing a road trip, in my mind, would be to stop at all of those quirky out-of-the-way places that you would never make a special trip to see otherwise. For instance, the Woodrow Wilson Presidential Museum caught my eye.
Because of Cat, however, I could not really think of stopping. It struck me as unfair to risk roasting his little brain in a sizzling hot moving truck just to see how the museum handled Edith Wilson's shadow presidency.
With Cat in tow, what I saw of the many, many, many states (TX, LA, MS, AL, GA, TN, VA, MD, PA, NJ, CT, and MA) that I traversed only appeared in the windshield. I can say, though, that traveling across the many, many, many, many states reminded me of Texas’ lack of natural beauty. Seriously – Tennessee had brilliantly green forests. Virginia had blooming wild flowers (I grant that Texas also has wild flowers – for two days every Spring), Pennsylvania had rolling hills and cute farmhouses. Even Mississippi seemed nice (though I doubt I would want to live there).
Speaking of Cat, he did not enjoy the journey. This caused me a great deal of stress. I had some kitty-knock-out drugs, but I felt like drugging him against his will wasn’t really all that nice. Not that I am one of those people who anthropomorphizes his animals (which I don’t).
During the first day, Cat gave me quite a fright. He threw himself against his carrier cage. He painted as if in a sweltering desert (he had plenty of water available to him in his carrier, fyi). Then he started drooling. Feeling bad for the little guy, I let him out of his box once we got on the road. I learned afterward from Cooper (who is friends with a vet) that letting him out only increases Cat stress.
I would say Cat communicated his stress level to me. He crawled into my lap and promptly vomited all over me. Within the next ten minutes, he defecated on me as well. In terms of character building events, I would say traveling 70mph in a 10 foot rental-truck with a pile of cat shit cooling on your lap ranks highly. All of that occurred within the first hour of being on the road.
You know that people say, “Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you mentally stronger.” If this was really true, after all that I have been through, shouldn’t I be able to levitate tables with my strange psychic powers at this point? I am just saying.
Needless to say, Cat got the drugs the next day and stayed his carrier. He slept peacefully.
Of course, tense moments occurred every morning. Trying to both get him to take the pill and get back in his box tested both of our wills. By the third day of driving, Cat and I both felt exhausted. He looked at me with those sweet green eyes and seemed to suggest a murder-suicide pact. Rather than leaving the motel to face another day on the road, I seriously considered his offer. In the end, however, I suspected that he would not have kept his side of the bargain after offing me.
Now that I am here, though, I can start to think about the best way to utilize this year both personally and professionally. If you are near liquor, raise your glass in honor of GayProf’s new start. If you are not near liquor, what the hell is wrong with you?