X. Sólo Veintidós Días Más

Only Twenty-One More Days

In the past few days we’ve broken through an invisible barrier of moderate angst. My wife and I have each gotten a good handle on how we will complete our respective tasks for this move. I’m organizing how we’ll get most of our belongings into storage; my forward-thinking spouse is putting together everything we’re taking to Mexico. 

Except for a few—mostly essential—things that are being given to a good home in the country on our final day in the apartment, nearly everything we are getting rid of is now gone. 

Having this plan will help maximize our use of this space
and guide us to the most efficient packing and unpacking
strategy.

There’s a stack of boxes and totes in my office so I can visualize how big a storage locker we’ll need to rent, and how everything will fit inside. Suitcases and duffel bags line a bedroom wall allowing my hard-working wife to begin packing what will go with us on the plane. What remains of this Jalisco-bound mound, she’ll pack to be picked up by Pay-Through-Your-Nose Shipping. With whom I’ve lately been exploring an online relationship.

Early next week, I’ll travel to the outer suburbs to rent and measure a storage locker and check out where I’ll soon be saying, “Hasta la vista” to Eddie, our little red Hyundai. I’ve made a floor plan for the locker that is measured to the inch and includes up to four levels. Which means I’ve been striding around our virtually empty rooms, slapping a fluorescent Ultralok tape measure on desks and dresser, etc., and coming back to the graph paper where it’s a ratio of one inch equals one foot. I’m pretty proud of what I came up with, at the same time being a little sheepish of its anality.

I know I’ll need help with the move, so last week I ran into Miguel, our garden apartments’ handyman. We arranged for one of his crew to give me a hand. The irony was not lost on either of us that a Mexican who recently moved here will soon be helping an American move to Mexico.

So. Closing out the US of A chapter seems well in hand.

A week ago we were discouraged, but now we’re feeling more sanguine about exactly where we’ll live once we’re down there, in Ajijic. People are being helpful.

Interesting, but I think I might be in danger, here,
of overthinking.

Jaime, of the Aces Ex-Pat Couple we’ve made friends with, sent us a recommendation for a very nice casa that will soon be for rent. He also suggested we contact a certain rental agent—the girlfriend of a guy he knows. This is the same woman I first heard of as the ex-girlfriend of a fellow I hiked with last summer: an example, perhaps, of the kind of inbreed relationships that become common knowledge in small communities.

I had already contacted this lady, and she just recently became more active on our behalf, as did another ex-pat friend who sent us a rental listing she saw on Facebook and thought we might like. 

Finally, I received validation for a our on-the-ground plan to find, what we call, Casa Delicia, whose 19—and counting—desirable attributes this Virgo has ranked and weighted. Both Jaime and Canuck Bob say I’ve got a good strategy, one that’s well thought-out. More about that in the next post.