It’s hard to describe how relieved I am that this phase of the Great Swiss Invasion is complete. Granted it’s only been a few months in the making but it feels like we’ve been concocting this caper forever. We still have some loose ends like Neil’s visa but the bulk of the Swiss end of things is done. Of course now that the distraction of being frustrated and impatient 24 hours a day has disappeared, the reality of the situation has a free path to make its appearance.
Just like when I first moved to France, it all seems surreal, that quality of belonging to another. I have no true understanding of it coming to pass and yet, like before, it will indeed do just that. The move-in day is set for October 1. So I have 2 months to get it together, literally and figuratively. The logistics will be a challenge: movers or a truck and a prayer? Sell it all off again or haul it all with us? The French housette came sans appliances, the Swiss apartment will have a new complete kitchen, you get the idea. The devil dances in the details.
And speaking of the apartment and details. Well, it seems like it will work. It’s on the ground floor of a small building and has two balconies, front and back, so Rusty, his BBQ and my stomach shall continue in their happy ménage à trois. A bedroom for us, a little office for Neil, a tiny kitchen albeit newly renovated, a combined salon et salle à manger with room for a desk for moi, and a bathroom.
Now that last one is the particular challenge for me. Not once in our decade of bliss have the monsieur and I shared one for any extended period. Not only is there the single toilet dilemma, it’s a small space, tight for a woman of my size at the best of times, let alone coupled with a husky, hairy creature. My plan for coping is a daily affirmation of how blessed I am to have clean water and sanitation when most of the world does not. That oughta last me the first two weeks. After that, I’ll let the marriage counsellor figure it out.
At any rate, confidence is high as are my hopes for this next adventure. We’ve been happy at the housette and I suspect it will be hard to leave. Plus, I have no idea what to name the apartment. Let me know if you think anything fits. What does fit already for me is the name of my new street…
Avenue of Peace. This will sound quite daffy but I’d be lying if I said that the street name didn’t charm me entirely, tipping me from like to love for this place. A small quiet street, canopied by tall trees, conveniently close to grocery stores, a gym and a five minute walk to a great Chinese restaurant (tested to satisfaction before lease signing). There’s an old-age home across the street which means I don’t have to look to far to see our future. That is, assuming they have an acceptable toilet to arse ratio.
Anyway, I have no idea what the Avenue of Peace will bring me (maybe that’s the best part) but I do plan on bringing you lot with me. Think of the possibilities: the Avenue Peace Corps, the Avenue Peace Prize, the Middle Avenue Peace Talks. Oh my lord, the train has barely left the station and already I’m off the rails. What else is new?