Moving Day!

Gizmo hiding under my bed.

It is finally pack out day for me.  The movers should be here any minute now.  I’m starting to feel more and more nervous as time goes on.  I have this nagging feeling that I am forgetting something . . . which is weird because I’ve packed and repacked my suitcases about 3 times now.  I finally got it figured out where I can have all the things I need (though less clothes) and be within my 50lbs/70lbs luggage restrictions (I decided to make one of my suitcases 70lbs because there is no way I could fit everything I need for Gizmo and everything I need for me in only 100lbs.  I even got more pairs of shoes into my suitcases!

Gizmo's partially eaten food . . . unheard of!

I have a feeling that this day is going to be an experience.  I think Gizmo realizes something is up because he is busy hiding.  He even left food in his dish!

Final Day at Cross Country Courier

Today was my last day at CCC.  It feels weird to be done.  I’m so excited for this move in my life, and yet I find myself looking back with more sadness than I expected.

Gizmo and I taking a nap rather than packing . . .

I always hate good-byes.  I really care about a lot of these people, and now I’m leaving.  It’s amazing how quickly people can take root in your heart.  And it hurts to pull them out (not that I’m forgetting about them when I leave, but it will never be the same).  I’m surprised at how people seem to have come to care about me, too.  Yesterday I had a man whom I’ve never met who works at another company ask to speak with me.  Sure, I’ve talked to him several times on the phone before, but he wanted to wish me luck before I left.  He told me that my co-workers think very highly of me.  What does it take for someone who has never set foot in the office to understand how my co-workers feel about me?

Yes, it did get this bad!

There was a pot-luck today filled with lots of great food.  My manager gave me a card that had been signed by everyone on the floor.  When she came over to give it to me, she started to tear up.  How is it possible to make such an impact on someone after less than a year that tears well up in their eyes when they think of you leaving?

It’s not that I’m devoid of emotion in this matter.  I just know I couldn’t be happy staying there (or here in Bismarck, for that matter) forever.  I’m sad to say good-bye because I have truly enjoyed my time at CCC.  I love the people I work with and I’ve made friends that I hope will last a lifetime.  But oh how quickly a move of this proportion can change that.

Scott, the man I trained to replace me who also helped me with my car said, you just need a dad.  Clarissa, the woman who started the same day that I did, has become a surrogate mother.  Others have confided in me and take my philosophy about men seriously (heaven help the world if all women thought about men like I do!!).  I guess it is no wonder that after a year someone can make such an impact on the people around them because those same people make an impact on them, too.

One chapter in my life is closing.  But characters often reappear in later chapters.  I hope that is the case with many of these.

Moving and packing and moving and packing . . .

Piles of stuff to go through, including my
recently finished laundry

Oh the joys of moving!  If you can't catch the sarcasm in the previous statement (due to the limited ability of blogging to project such emotions) I will spell it out for you: I - H - A - T - E - P - A - C - K - I - N - G!
The only good thing about this move (besides being the start of my career/what I want) is that I don't have to do most of the packing, meaning I don't actually have to physically pack anything (besides my suitcases that will be traveling with me on the plane).  I thought that meant the move would be easy.  What I didn't realize was that the most difficult part of moving is still mine: sorting!
Basically I have to sort everything I own into four groups: what will be going with me on the plane (mainly clothes and things I need for Gizmo), what will be coming to me in DC in a few weeks (called UAB for Unaccompanied Air Baggage), what will be going into storage (called HHE for HouseHold Effects), and finally what I will be getting rid of (aka, donating).  In order to pack all this stuff, I have basically made a giant mess in my place.  It helps that my sister moved out yesterday so I have her old room to put stuff in, but you are never aware of how much JUNK you own until you start pulling it out to move.

More piles, my sisters move may have
helped a lot, but in some ways has
made things a little more complicated.

I'm especially aware because someone is going to be looking at everything I own and has to be able to list it on an inventory.  What about all those little trinkets/momentos that I've saved from childhood (which I must admit have decreased in quantity over the years)?  What do they write on a box like that?  Childhood memories?  Or what about on the inventory list, do they generally group them, or will they have to list everything individually: glowworm (remember those things?), African woven bookmark that says "Stand as a Witness", seashells from Oregon, seashells from Hawaii, Funny money from sixth grade, etc.

Gizmo just had to help!  Well, really he just had to be in
the middle of it all!

Or what about the stuff that I've kept because I swear some day I'm going to use them in my scrapbook? Bus/trolley ticket stubs from my public transportation days in Russia, programs from theater shows/musical productions, etc, pamphlets from historical sites, and other papers.  How do those get labeled?  Crafts, or scrapbooking supplies?  I admit it is all a mystery to me.  And I guess that doesn't really matter since I won't be the one labeling them, but it sure makes me self conscious since a lot of those things probably appear as junk to everyone else.  And honestly, right now they are.  I just haven't used them in my scrapbook to enhance the pictures that I already have, or figured out what else to do with them.  And maybe some day I will end up getting rid of them, but for now I am not ready to let go of everything from my past.

Adventures in Car Insurance Run Around

Remember over a month ago when my quiet Sunday evening was ruined by an incident with my neighbor's newly purchased vehicle ramming my car?  Since then I've been working with her insurance to get my claim paid.  At first the adjuster said he wasn't sure it would be covered, and then he said he was waiting for some documents from my neighbor . . . and still waiting.  On Monday I got a hold of the adjuster (and up to this point he had always been good about getting back to me in a timely manner).  He called my neighbor and was able to get a hold of her.  She told him that she had sent the paperwork to her agent, but the agent claimed he hadn't received it yet.  The adjuster told me he was going to have the agent call my neighbor.
That was the last I had heard.  I called yesterday, left a message, but got no call back.  Scott, the newest dispatcher at CrossCountry Courier, used to sell car insurance.  He told me yesterday that if I didn't hear from him by Friday that I should call the Insurance Dept of ND.  Last night I went shopping with Erin and I told her about it.  She said, why wait a couple days?  It's not going to make a difference!
This morning, I decided not to wait any longer.  I went on the internet and found out that I could file a complaint online (through email), so I did just that. 
To my surprise and amazement, not much longer after, I got a call from the insurance adjuster.  He said, "So did you not think I was doing a good enough job?"  Those were the first words out of his mouth.  It took about an hour from the time I submitted my claim to the time I got a call from the adjuster.  I was shocked, to say the least, especially since when I saw the number of the person calling me, I started to think that maybe I didn't need to file that complaint after all!
It turns out that in the course of his conversation with Kathy (the nice lady who works with the insurance commissioner) and the hour after that she spent tracking down information for him (aka, doing his job for him), he discovered that he didn't need that information after all and that they could process the claim.
Now I just need to wait for someone to call with the amount/options.  I have a phone number to call in case I don't hear from them.
It is sad that I had to go to such great lengths to get this taken care of, but I am convinced now that if I hadn't, this would not have been resolved until long after I was no longer in Bismarck.

New Name

With the iminent launch of my career as a Foreign Service Officer, I have changed the name of my blog.  I hope this doesn't cause any confusion.