Moving far, far away...

There are so many little things that need to be done to move across the country. Stuff needs to be packed and shipped or given to St. Vincent de Paul. There are plane tickets to be bought, hotels to be booked, cars to be rented. We aren't even on the plane yet and we've already booked appointments to look at apartments in a town that I've been to once. The whole process is so daunting that something will inevitably be forgotten. I made a list of things to do today and I'm sure that I've already forgotten something.

One thing that complicates this whole process is that we have cats. These cats are going to be following us across the country to the great northeast. Obviously, flying with a cat is only slightly less insane than driving with one. There is still a cat carrier involved; only to go through airport security, you have to take the cat out of the carrier and walk through the metal detector. This is after you've somehow handed the TSA agent your ticket, your I.D. and the cat's health certificate. Then, you somehow get the cat back into the carrier and proceed to stick them under the seat in front of you for the duration of the flight. Hopefully, after your cat scratches heal, your cat will have forgiven you. I'm not counting on it, because we don't have an apartment to take the cats to.

Nope, we're going to be hotel camping. This is a proud tradition in my family, since we did move thirteen times in twelve months. I'm very afraid of this particular portion of the journey, because we'll have cats. In a hotel. That's crazier than flying with cats. There are so many things that can go horribly, horribly wrong. What if the housekeepers let the cats out? What if the cats decide to hide under the bed and not come out? What if, what if, what if?

Hopefully, in two weeks, we'll have a place to live and the cats will be getting over their anger and acclimating to our electoral vote splitting home.