Let the Wild Rumpus Start

The movers will arrive here early on Tuesday morning. I am supposed to have lists of things prepared. Normally, this wouldn’t bother me. I am a list maker and a planner. I come from a long line of list makers and planners. It’s in our DNA. We enjoy making lists and checking things off the way other people enjoy fine wines. On this occasion, though, it’s just one more item on the master list of things-to-do.  The relocation counselor assured me that I wouldn’t have to list every Power Ranger and action figure separately. I hope she’s right. Otherwise, Tuesday will be a very long day.

Once the packing starts, I suspect it will begin to feel like a thrill ride – terrifying and exciting all at once. Brian will be here for a few days – inshallah – and will accompany us back to Saudi Arabia and our ultimate destination, KAUST. The day he is due to arrive here is the day of the house sale – should be interesting. I want to sell as much as I can while still keeping enough to enable us to live in the house for the last few days – beds, linens, and the electric kettle. Those are my must-haves for in-house camping, which is essentially what we will be doing for those last few days.

I am reading the KAUST blogs as if I am studying for an exam. I am trying to prepare myself for the move. I know – based on my experience with other moves in the past – that no matter how much preparation you do, it’s still a shock to the system. No matter how excited and thrilled you are to be where you are, it still takes getting used to. When I first moved to Chicago, I thought I would never get used to it. We moved from Southern California and we didn’t even have coats. I thought I was going to die of the cold. Now, I am as comfortable here as where I grew up – maybe even more so. Without even realizing I was doing it, I settled in. I put down roots and made friends. I still don’t like shoveling snow – but still, I have grown to love it here. So, I hope in twenty years to be able to say the same about KAUST.

Let the wild rumpus start. (With apologies to Maurice Sendak.)

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