Move Countdown

The final countdown to MOVE SPECTACULAR has commenced. Tomorrow, we will no longer hold ties to the Old Line State, and will have completely given ourselves over to the dark side. Darth Vader would be proud. All of our worldly possessions will be packed into a semi, and transported north. A trip that takes four hours by car, apparently takes three days by truck. So for our beloved items, my husband and I have divided them somewhat equally. I will make the drive with two yowling cats, and he will be responsible for the living Christmas tree. Both are quite complicated to carry: cats cry and trees leak.

Over the past week in preparation for this final move, we have discovered that transferring residency is more hellish than originally conceived. First, there will be three days of either living in a hotel or camping in a townhouse without blinds. Second, USAA, our favorite corporate entity, cannot legally offer us renters’ or auto insurance, and the surrogates have offered the general trade off: less benefits for more money. And lastly, we have been warned that the taxes will strip us of any dignity. But we’ve resolved that’s just the wilds of New Jersey: an unfamiliar culture with stranger laws and bureaucracy than any state we’ve lived in or intended to.

I’ve also postulated in this short time that New Jersey is a woman, and has decided to hate us for our PA heritage. This fact is evidenced by all the difficulty in changing over licenses, addresses, and companies. I think we’ll be working through the BS for the next year, and spending major dollars to complete it. If New Jersey was a man, we would have settled these disputes with a fist fight or perhaps a grueling hike to the top of Kittatinny Mountain. However, as most things in an alien culture, I am dealing with the supremely vengeful monster. This time she’s known as NJ government.

I nod my head to her coy means of dissent. She has won this first battle, but I warn her…I am down but not out.