The move is less then two weeks away and I am nearly finished packing. The only things I have left, for the most part, are the things I'll be taking with me in the car, along with maybe three or four boxes of clothes and assorted items. The only problem is that now I don't have anyone to take me.
My friend Cody was supposed to help me drive but, and maybe I shouldn't be saying this because I'm still considering accepting his help and I hate to make myself liable for anything, he recently discovered that his driver's license has been suspended. There are some other options, sure, but Cody was probably the best given his combination of being able to take a large amount of time off work and being able to function well with little sleep. Anyway, it's a change of plans I'm not too happy about and it's the one really stressful thing that has occurred during this whole thing, which I guess makes me sort of lucky that I only have one thing that's gone wrong, but it's a big thing.
In the meantime my dog decided to take this week to remind me just how impulsive she is, running after cats into the neighborhood twice and chasing a coyote into the bushes the other day. It's funny, a few minutes before we had encountered two friendly dogs she'd never seen before and she immediately became frightened and hid between my legs, but when she sees a coyote, one nearly her size by the way, she runs right after it like she's the toughest thing on four legs. Actually I'm less concerned about the coyote then I am the cats, and not because I'm afraid for the cats. If the coyote should turn around to confront her she'd be cowering behind me in a second, and if she actually caught up to the cats she'd freak out and not know what to do (as she is when they climb a fence and hiss at her). The real concern is her willingness to just run into any street or yard that happens to be between her and whatever random quarry has her attention. I can't have her doing that in Maine where there are no fences and where the quarry might be bigger then a squirrel or a cat. She's no good on leash but she may have to learn to accept it if I can't trust her off of it.
Hockey started on Thursday. My team, the Canucks, played the Penguins starting at seven. They ended up losing in a shoot-out, which every Canucks fan could have told you would be the result the moment the shoot-out began, they are really terrible in shoot-outs. But it's the first game of the season and what every fan wants to see from there team is not so much a win but a sign of things to come in the later parts. The Canucks came back from a 3-1 deficit, and actually had more then a few opportunities to be ahead if it wasn't for the stellar play of the opposing netminder. I bring all this up because the Canucks play in Vancouver which is three hours behind Maine. Most of their games start at seven Pacific time. It will be ten in Maine before my favorite team's games even start. I could follow the Bruins who are just down in Boston. Actually, I do like the Bruins, I'm a huge Bobby Orr fan, but they played right before the Canucks against the Flyers who I hate but I couldn't find a way to cheer for them because they beat the 'Nucks in the Stanley Cup last year and I'm still smarting from it. Actually, I don't even have a TV so I won't necessarily be following anyone except for those games I watch illicitly from websites. Regardless of how I watch them it will be tough to stay up until after midnight about sixty nights a year just to watch a hockey game.