We’re ready. We’re waiting. Everything is in place: I rented orange-and-white construction barriers (complete with flashing lights) and “NO PARKING” signs to reserve parking spots on the street for the ReloCube and the truck that will deliver it. We’ve gotten an “encroachment” permit so our cube can sit out on the curb without getting a ticket. And I’ve scheduled a four-hour-window delivery time with ABF U-Pack for Monday. Yes, Monday. A snowy start in Pennsylvania and who knows what else have delayed our cube’s arrival time from January 10 to January 14.
I am losing patience quickly, even though most of me is just relieved that the cube has not yet disappeared (let’s hope the same goes for its contents). I tracked it online from Pennsylvania to Dayton to Chicago to Lincoln, Nebraska…now it’s slated to arrive in Reno this afternoon. It’s close, so close. Our toaster oven and soup pots and sweaters. Our books and Romanian sheepskin pelt and frying pans. Our DVDs and alarm clock and measuring spoons. Perhaps it’s just a sign of not having enough other diversions out here but I get almost giddy with excitement when I imagine all of our things finally, finally home.
In the meantime, we’re waiting. We’ve put together bookcases (eliciting an angry protest from our downstairs neighbors last night, broom-pounding-on-ceiling in good New York spirit); today we’re heading to Home Depot to buy materials to make radiator covers. (Who are we??) Of course, the cube’s arrival coincides with an insane work week for Andrew, rife with important meeting-preparations that will surely cut into our cube-unloading time. Ah well. We’ll get it done somehow. In just a few more days the boxes that have been sealed for nearly two years will be opened. And I’m hoping our primary reaction won’t be “We saved this?”