What a Long, Strange Trip

Well, some things are finally starting to happen on the logistics front.

Last night our car (a 1998 Chevy Blazer) was delivered to us. We can't drive it until we have insurance, but it should be done today. To be honest with you, it's thrilling just to know we could go sit in it. We'll have to get it tuned up, and charge the A/C, but it's OK to run these kinds of errands, since now I can run errands! I'll put in a photo when it's convenient and I've actually driven it.

Hours before the car delivery, we walked over to the house again. It's been a daily ritual that we go by to check on progress. Every evening since Friday, Senora tells us that the kitchen cabinets are almost done, that they look beautiful, and that they are being delivered later "tonight". Next evening, she apologizes and says that she promises tonight for sure. There are several little things to be completed still, but the only one that truly matters is having a functional kitchen. Apparently, they can't put in the fridge or stove until the cabinets, and so those damn cabinets really represent the house being a success or failure for us.

Anyway, yesterday was supposed to be the walk-through inspection to verify that the house was complete, so that Andrea's work can pay her the remaining 3-months' advance rent and so we can formally take possession. Actually it was supposed to be Saturday but we informally moved it to Monday. So we really thought that this would be the magic time that works, like Charlie Brown really believing that Lucy will hold the football for him to kick it. And, as easy as that outcome is to predict, the same was true for us: no cabinets. As we agreed, it was time for Mean Andrea to come out.

We had discussed the day before that we would not lose this house without a fight, and that Andrea is much more suited to getting nasty when necessary than I am. She switched to the Dark Side in a hurry, and started yelling at Senora (after Zoe and I had walked down to the gate and were busy singing). Then Senora took out her phone and dialed the cabinet maker, and handed the phone to Andrea. Now my French is still pretty elementary, but I got the gist, and was glad to not be on the other end of that line. In fact, I think most people in that part of the neighborhood did as well. Next to Zoe and me was an older gentleman of the construction crew who I like a lot. Unlike many Rwandans who find Zoe cute, he does not feel the need to come up to her aggressively demonstrating this, and just says hello to her with a twinkle in his eye. It works so much better for her. Anyway, I turned to him, and told him in French, "I have a very strong wife." He looked up with a wry smile and said back, "and she's right, too."

Anyway, the cabinet maker apologized profusely and tried to give Andrea excuses, but ended up with a dead line. About 3 hours later, Senora called us to say the cabinets had arrived!

Andrea went by for the nearly final inspection with the operations manager at work. The cabinets still need to be painted, which they are doing today, and then they can be hung. Likely tomorrow. Which means we could have a working kitchen as early as tomorrow (depending upon gas hook-up). Apparently, this green-light from work puts into motion a chain of inevitable events beginning with us moving in by the end of the week, but preferably getting it all done tomorrow.

This is simultaneously wonderful and problematic. We should have our household goods shipment delivered some time early next week. Until then we have mattresses for all, a couple low dressers, a small cabinet, a coffee table, and some plastic outdoor chairs and table. We also have a few dishes and one cooking pot, and flatware. Basically, we'll be camping out in the place. It will be a tough few days with a lot of running around town to buy stuff like a microwave and fans and a vacuum and various other things that I'll know when I see the need. But that's A-OK! These kinds of problems I can use!

By the way, the song Zoe and I were singing while Andrea was opening her can of whoop-ass was "Do-Re-Mi" from the Sound of Music. She has absolutely flipped for this and the Wizard of Oz. She can sing every word of Do-Re-Mi, but ironically doesn't do it with the least intention of a tune. She frequently wants to talk about either of these movies. When we read stories in bed, she wants to have a pillow on her lap, because one of the Von Trapp children did that when Maria was singing "My Favorite Things." And in our little private alley behind the house, I suggested that she could learn to ride bikes here with me or her friends, she was only interested in the idea if we could do it while singing Do-Re-Mi, "just like the children do [in the movie]."