Moving overseas

Mr. Last Minute & Mrs. On Time

So we’re here. Like for real. We’re in New Zealand. It was a long way. It wasn’t easy. We’ve made it here despite all the obstacles. I don’t want to write about it now. Maybe later on one day, when not so happy memories will be forgotten and only happy ones will remain. Okay, I’m kidding. It was quite fun actually. Lot of fun. But I really don’t want to write about it now. I want to write about moments before we set off. The moments of packing.
They say that traveling together will prove your relationship. Once you leave your comfort zone and step in unexpected situations, your true self will reveal.
I’m kind of person who likes to be everywhere on time (which doesn’t mean it always happens). Especially when traveling. Missing the flight/bus/train scares me until I get on board. I live with a guy who doesn’t care much about these things. Why, there will be another flight/bus/train. He lives in his own universe where time is more than relative. He has his own timezone. I just didn’t adjust to it yet.
We traveled together a bit so I’m confident to say that I have enough experience and I’m able to predict what is likely to happen. The thing is I know pretty much how the situation will evolve but I’m also optimist and dreamer who believes that this time it will be different. It won’t. But this is how funny stories originate, I can prove it.
Moving to New Zealand wasn’t our first moving. It was only our first intercontinental moving. Except sending stuff overseas it was same as before. In every way.

Month before moving out:
Me (talking about his stuff): Maybe it’s time to start packing slowly?
He: No worries, we have plenty of time.
What happened: Nothing.

2 weeks before moving out:
Me (talking about his stuff): Maybe it’s really time to start packing?
He: No worries, I’ll do that soon.
What happened: Nothing.

Week before moving out:
Me (talking about his stuff): Are you going to pack this EVER?
He: No worries, I’ll sort it out.
What happened: He takes all his stuff from cupboards/shelves/etc and put it on the ground in the middle of the room (result: it’s impossible to walk through the room for next 7 days).

4 days before moving out:
Me (talking about his stuff): How’s packing going?
He: No worries, getting there.
What happened: Nothing.

3 days before moving out:
Me (talking about his stuff): Not saying anything, starting to be upset.
He: No worries.
What happened: Nothing.

2 days before moving out:
Me (talking about his stuff): Not saying anything. Upset.
He: No worries.
What happened: Nothing.

1 day before moving out:
Me (talking about his stuff): Not saying anything. Upset. Thinking about getting divorced, then realizing we’re not married.
He: No worries.
What happened: Half of the stuff is gone. I’ve no idea where.

Morning of the day when moving out:
Me (talking about his stuff): Not saying anything. No more upset. It will be over soon.
He: Seems upset when cleaning up the room.
What happened: Most of the stuff is gone. I’ve no idea where.

Midday of the day when moving out:
Me (talking about his stuff): Not saying anything. It’s over.
He: See? I told you it will be done in time.
What happened: Everything is gone. I’ve no idea where.

I’m not enjoying it, but I got used to it and it’s simply part of the process. By now I can’t imagine it would be different when we will move out again. It would be boring then. And when life gets boring it’s no good.