Exodus part I

Every story has a beginning a middle and and end. If the story is a play (which, for my readers under 30, is a movie performed live, on a stage, with actors) then the script will usually have three parts also known as acts. Act I, Act II, Act III. As an audience member the separation between acts is fairly obvious. For example there may be a black-out or an intermission. In some cases there will be other clues such as the play stops and everyone claps and goes to the bathroom. In any case, an act usually ends after some big event or something really important to the story happens.
Real life is also broken up into separate acts and though we know how the first one starts and the last one ends, the number of acts in anyone's particular story can vary wildly. More importantly, there is often no clear delineation between the acts. I mean, when does childhood end and adulthood begin? One year you're dressed up for halloween and trick-or treating, the next you're too old. How the hell did that happen? What, all of a sudden you don't like free candy? Who doesn't like free candy? I would take a bag of free candy from a stranger right now! Unfortunately, if I showed up at a strangers' house at night wearing a mask and demanding stuff now it would be a felony.
There are times in life when what seems like the end of one part is actually the beginning of another. Like so many things in life, it's simply a matter of perspective. You've no doubt heard the expression "when God closes a door he opens a window" right? Or the old chestnut "when life hands you lemons, make lemonade". Good expressions, both, but not everyone likes climbing out windows and some people think lemonade tastes like battery acid so when life's tedious monotony grinds you down, or when things don't go the way they should, or for whatever reason, you need to make a change or gain a new perspective there is another very old saying that I just made up; "hey, let's just move to Finland".
Feel free to use it anytime.
Yes, Finland. No, not Newfoundland, Canada or Finslin County, SD. I mean actually, Finland, it's a whole other country with its own language and flag and everything. It's situated right up there next to Buyafreakingglobeistan and is the birthplace of, among other things, Nokia, the sauna, several motor sport world champions, and really really dark bread. Oh, and Mixo.
The decision to leave Los Angeles, a place we love living, and move to Finland was remarkably easy. Probably because when the decision was made it was only theoretical. As the date of departure got closer and the move became more of a reality things became decidedly more stressful.
Not only were we moving which, for most people, is a major pain in the patootie, but we were moving to a different country, selling, storing, or packing everything we own, AND selling our house. Oh, and we have three cats. Any one of these things taken individually is worth several grey hairs, but taken simultaneously they're good for a massive breakdown or three.
It is at a times like these that you find out who your friends are and, fortunately, we have some very good ones. Unfortunately, I owe a lot of people in LA drinks and will be mowing at least one lawn upon our return. You may also find out that your significant other is a pack-rat just shy of having her own hoarding reality show. No really, one of us has a problem because have way way too much crap. As we were packing our massive storage unit to the brim with our lives' detritus I kept imagining what it will be like to unpack all that stuff and how many times the phrase, "why the @#!$% did we keep this?" will be uttered. My guess; a lot.
As for selling the house goes all I can say is that the only thing which is a bigger pain in the ass than selling a house is buying one. This is mostly due to an entire industry of people who have made the process so complicated that they then need to be hired so they can explain it and thus have a job. What if every transaction was so convoluted? Going to the grocery store would require a mountain of paperwork, six weeks of negotiations, and a team of lawyers just to buy a steak that you'd probably overcook anyway. Buying and selling a house should be just like buying and selling a used car; find one you like, make a deal, give cash for title, and be done with it. If there was a craigslist for home buying then real estate agents would be the Nigerians. Ok?  
It is amazing how time gets compressed. What once was several months until we were to leave LA quickly whittled down to only minutes. At the end we had none to spare barely getting everything done before heading off to LAX.
At the airport we checked in with the Helga (a standard term for German women, look it up) at the ticket counter who, though nice, was not convinced that she should upgrade our tickets to first class for free. She was also not convinced that our extra luggage was a set of very short skis (you are allowed one checked bag and one ski bag at no cost. Which makes sense because people who fly from Los Angeles to Munich often need to bring their skis. Duh!). We then sent the crate full of three howling cats off to be loaded. By the way, did you know that the sound a really unhappy cat makes is remarkably similar to that of a screaming child? It's true. So if that sound is ever coming out of a crate that you happen to be pushing around an international airport and people are staring try this little tip; yell into the crate "look I'm sorry, but do you know how much white babies go for these days? I'm sure you're new parents will love you just as much." Then look at the interlopers, laugh and tell them, "probably a lot more actually".
Works every time. Ok seriously, don't do that. But it was really funny.
Then, despite being at the airport the requisite three hours ahead of time we almost missed our flight thanks to the usual grope and grab in security becoming a TSA drill in which everything inexplicably stops for ten minutes. We were not the last ones to get on the plane, however, that honor went to some pregnant woman with a child, a stroller, a carry-on bag, a neck pillow, and a small dog in tow.
So finally, after months of talking about it, weeks of planning, a few more weeks of procrastinating, reams of papers, hundreds of phone calls, the logistics, the fretting, the worrying, the gigantic stress of it all was about to pay off. We were settled into our seats (in coach thanks a lot Helga) and leaving Los Angeles.
The end of one part, the beginning of another. I can't wait to see how this story turns out.........


Up next; What's a celsius and why don't we have any?