I recognize this feeling. It’s been 25 years but it’s all coming back to me.  That scene where you’re planning a wedding (your own) and at some critical juncture the florist, the baker, the dress, the bridesmaids, the tuxedos, the caterer, the musicians, the photographer, the guest list, the printer, the rental space, the groomsmen, the rehearsal dinner, the vows, and the future in-laws all get to be too much. You scream something regrettable at your maid of honor or your mother (or both) before running in tears from the room where you have all spent the last four hours tying Jordan almonds up with pieces of netting and ribbon.  Later, you whine to your patient-bordering-on-saintly fiance: “Why are we doing this? We should go to City Hall and forget the wedding.” And he gives you a look that reminds you that if you had said those words six months ago he would have been more than happy to do exactly that.  But now it is too late and you are just going to have to finish what you started.

That is just about where I am with this move.  Some of this hassle is unavoidable.  We have to do the paperwork (the visas, credentials, insurance, medical records, blah blah blah).  But the moving part…

The school hired one other person this year in addition to us.  Her name is Mariah and she lives in Virginia.  She is not shipping anything.  All her stuff is going with her on the plane.  Huh.  I think it is too late for us to do that.  The shippers are coming in five days.

Oh well.  The wedding turned out well.  Maybe the move will, too.

And they all lived happily ever after.