I have a lot to write about my transition, but there is so much emotional territory to digest that I’m still feeling my way. Being here has been wonderful. I know I have to start a new life in a new place. I’m really glad I don’t have to do it for a few more weeks.
SO – House is sold to Daughter and Son in Law. Move is pretty much arranged and house, while not looking very different, is well on the way to being organized enough for logistical relocation without a nervous breakdown in front of people I know.
Today my Daughter came over and we switched over the utilities. It was a boring few hours of calling utilities, poking buttons on the phone tree till I got a human, explaining what was needed and then listening to terrible music until the human who could help got on line. Still, done, YaY.
Afterwards, we had enough time to have lunch at our favorite Greek place. It was fun to talk to the owner, eat great food and be glad we still lived in the same state so we could see each other easily.
I found myself telling my Daughter that Mr. Wonderful, my husband of 29 years, her Dad, had been surprisingly grateful that I chose to leave my extremely happy life and follow him to Atlanta.
It was never really a question – but it is a choice. Our kids are grown. I could live up here and visit him a few times a month. I’m uprooting 57 years of a very happy life with all my family within a few miles and lots and lots of friends – many of whom go back decades, nearby. I’m leaving a part time job that I have loved.
But to quote Gladys Knight and the Pips: “I’d rather live in his world, than live without him, in mine.”
“So,” my beautiful Daughter told me as we inhaled shrimp gyros, “I want to tell you something because I think you’ll find it really funny. BUT you have to promise not to get mad.”
BACKSTORY: In the beginning of March, when Mr. W was prepping to move to Atlanta, we had lots of Stuff To Do. We broke the scanner scanning important documents, opted for paperless everything and generally got organized.
I’d had a really busy day and I finally woke Mr. W up from his nap and asked him to zerox the notebook where we keep all our passwords and user names. He was pretty grouchy about getting off the couch and we had a tiny marital enhancing moment summed up with me quoting the Nike logo – “JUST DO IT.” So off he went to Staples. He came back a short time later and I pointed out that it took longer to argue about it than to actually copy the document, thanks (idiot). I kept the idiot part to myself.
Fast forward to us in the temporary housing in Atlanta. I’d gotten a nasty letter from the State of Delaware insisting I hadn’t paid a $4 toll with my EZ Pass. I had to go online, print out a copy of my EZ Pass account and prove that I had paid the toll so I wouldn’t have to pay a $29 fine. I was in a fine mood – I’d spent the week driving Mr. W, then in the leg brace and crutches, to and from work in horrible traffic. I was lonely and miserable. I was pissed that I had to hassle around proving stupid stuff to Delaware.
“Well,” Tom said to me, “I don’t have the copy of the password book.”
I glared. “Is this going to be like the time the head of the White House Unit brought me our checkbook because you had left it out on your desk at work?” That had been quite the conversation with several highly amused people, none of them being Mr. Wonderful.
Mr. W’s shoulders were scrunching up to the top of his ever-reddening ears. This has always signaled guilt. “I didn’t copy it, I took pictures with my iPhone.”
I wasn’t mean enough to pick on a injured man, so I just pointed – “That’s your iPhone, pull it up.”
Turns out - that was his sexy NEW iPhone. The iPhone with all our top-secret user names and passwords was SITTING ON HIS DESK AT CNN.
Cue Long Marriage Enhancing Moment with not happy conversation, including why he has never been allowed to have the checkbook again.
The next night Mr. Wonderful hobbled into the apartment. He dug out a bundle of papers. He’d printed out the pictures and wiped the phone. I couldn’t resist one more dig. “Wouldn’t it have just been easier to have copied the documents when I asked you to?’
He had the grace to look ashamed. “Probably,” he admitted.
SO – NOW WE ARE BACK AT THE RESTAURANT WITH MY DAUGHTER
“Dad,” my Daughter informed me, “got to work that day and his old iPhone wasn’t on his desk. He was having a heart attack, tearing apart his workspace when the unit's well meaning admin person came by and told him that she had mailed it back to the Washington Bureau for reuse."
I boggled at her, feeling my ears starting to catch fire.
“I was lying in bed sound asleep when Dad called. His first words were I need you to do something for me and NEVER tell your Mother. Whoo boy Mom, he was in a panic.”
The iPhone was still in transit. Mr. Wonderful wanted our daughter to drive to our house, find the password notebook, photograph it on her iPhone and send it to him.
My Daughter sensibly pointed out that she could just fed ex the book BUT Mr. W told her “NO – YOUR MOM WILL REALIZE WHAT I DID AND I’LL NEVER BE TRUSTED WITH ANYTHING EVER AGAIN.”
“Well,” my Daughter told him, “I have to go to work early because that plane fell out of the sky. Plus – if you want me to fix this for you I deserve a pony.”
So that is how my sweet Son in Law found himself at his future home, digging around in drawers to find the password notebook. Which he photographed with his iPhone, sent to my husband and wondered about the family of lunatics he had married into.
"Um, I said to my Daughter, "Did the old iPhone get wiped, or is all our information now living with someone else?"
"Nah. Everyone in the Bureau had a good laugh, but trust me when I tell you, I saw them wipe the phone myself. Poor Dad though, lots of people remember the checkbook incident."
I’m still laughing as I type this. Some fabulous day I’m going to whip out this creamy nugget and KLOBBER Mr. Wonderful with it.