azulita

The "I literally can't even" moment at approximately the halfway point in our 8 weeks between houses finally happened last Friday.

I got home from work and only one wagging dog greeted me at the door, which was intriguing, but not in a good way. 

I immediately thought the other dog was in some kind of trouble, either resting and drooling on a neighbor's couch, or running dangerously loose on the Cambridge streets. 

But if one dog was gone, why weren't both dogs? Then I realized our bathroom door was shut tightly, and heard a squeak from that direction of the apartment. Then more squeaks. Shrill squeaks. 

Me: Oh for Christ's sake.

She must have panicked from being locked in the bathroom so of course, she chewed up the entire door and door jamb of our lovely, friendly AirBnB rental. And this is not even just a rental for rental's sake, but someone's actual home. 

When I told him, José texted "We really need to get in our home." 

He later said in person, "It's not as bad as you made it sound."

It took us more than hour to clean up the shards of door on the bathroom tile, though, and another hour to disassemble the door hinges on order to allow a carpenter to come and fix this. The damage is looking like $500, which is not as bad as I thought, but, Oh my God, Lucille.

I have our new Hyde Park house (nickname Azulita) in our sights though, and keep thinking we're going to look back and laugh at all of this someday. We try to put it in perspective. Jose mentioned last night that this packing and moving is good practice for all the travel we hope to do someday in our future, a combination of RV-ing and globe trotting.