So, I would like to say that all is well at the moment, but it isn’t not really. Since I got back, I’ve had maybe one day that I didn’t need to go anywhere, meaning that I feel seriously stressed out. Can’t be helped at the moment, I fear, but it is starting to take it’s toll.
What can possibly have taken so much time that two weeks have flown by, I hear you wonder. Seriously, you do not want to know how often I’ve visited my insurance agent (she was a darling, I tell ya, but I really don’t need to see her that often) went to the garage, a lawyer (on the assistance of my mechanic) and all for…naught, really. Yes, they finally agreed that I was entitled to 600 bucks for towing (yay) the car to the garage of my choice, only downside was that already 232 of that was already spent on towing the Trooper to the French garage where it had been stored (for a whopping 8.50 per day) for the past two weeks or so. So that meant that from the moment I made the decision to take the car back to Spain, I would have needed to pay that myself, and since I would then have to arrange for the tow to actually happen so much money would go down the drain that in the end we just had to give up on the Trooper and let it go. So, figuring that the insurance is not going to waste more time and money either, the poor Trooper is probably junk now. Such a pity.
Moving on, and all that, I find is very difficult at the moment, but we are. What with the losses of funds due to the disastrous trip, the car’s break down and consequent loss, and all those little things that have been eating at what is left of our savings, big brother and I have both come to a momentous decision: Within a few months, we will be moving back to the Netherlands.
Yep. For the both of us, the Spanish adventure has definitely come to an end…and added to that we are going to have to find work, which is not something we feel we can do here in these troubled times; at least not enough to make a difference in the way of life that we’ve all been used to. Changes are going to have to be made, the biggest of which being the dogs.
We’ll be looking for homes for some of them, while the rest of them are going to be staying here with mom and the younger sibs, who have decided that they want to stay here and make a go of it. So for the time being big brother and I will be trying to send some money home every month and hope that it will be enough to tide them over until the younger sibs have found work.
Talking of the dogs, we lost Jelly and Matti this past month, the first of old age, and the latter had to be put down because little brother found him in serious agony one morning, basically incapable of movement. Some serious tests later, it turned out that he had a degenerative disease in his spine that made the disks grow out of shape until it paralyzed him. Scary thought that. Had never heard of something like it before.
Also had a big scare with Clue the other day. Big brother were on our way out of the house when the silly dog decided to jump out the window (about 5 foot high) and somehow managed to land wrong. He was lying there, seemingly completely paralyzed, blood on the floor around his head, and his breathing shallow, looking more like some sort of spasm. We seriously feared that he’d snapped his spine, and were more than a little weary about doing anything. So I went to get the Land Rover while big brother and middle sister carefully slid him onto a wooden board.
Next we carried him out, and rushed him to the vet, fully expecting to have to put him down.Strangely enough, about half way there, he was raising his head, a few blocks away he was trying to sit up, and by the time we got to the vet he was walking again…albeit wobbly, and more cheerful than a drunk who won the lottery. The vet couldn’t find anything wrong with him, thankfully, but did put him on an anti-inflammatory and diuretics because it was clear that he knocked himself out hard enough to almost croak. He seemed drunk and extremely happy for several days, but has slowly turned back to his serious self. At least he’s okay.
We have been working constantly on the Land Rover. Now that we have made this decision we really need to sell it, for so many reasons that…well, no matter the reason, there really is not much of a choice. It feels like I’m losing the last thing (besides the dogs who are not things, thank you very much) that was a part of life here in Spain, so that is hard. Will have to get over it. If for no other reason than that there is no time to mourn it all. We’ve got our tickets arranged and they’re set for mid-July. Fast, eh?
No sense in postponing the inevitable, I guess.
Another thing that kept us busy is figuring out all that needs doing once we’re back there. There are long lists of places we need to go, folks we need to talk to, and of course finding a place to live. At first Cousin Ed and Tenant will be there to “catch” us, so to speak, but that should only be temporary, of course. Can’t mooch off them, despite their assurances that they’d love to have us there. Everyone needs their own space.
In regard to my varicose vein, I went to see a surgeon and heard the disturbing news that to get lasered the whole thing would cost a 1000 bucks, which I don’t have, of course. But Cousin Ed has offered to loan me the money for the operation, so I’ve told my doctor to proceed with the arrangements. Monday I will have my pre-op exams, and that same evening I will meet with the surgeon again, at which time we will talk about the whole procedure and get it all sorted. They think that we can get it all done within a couple of weeks, so let’s hope that it works out. That way I can have it all done before moving away from Spain.
Grandpa has slowly recovered from the trip somewhat, slowly getting used to a very different way of life. There are often times that he doesn’t know what to do with himself, so I have suggested that he go along with Tenant to her “daycare” meetings and see what that is all about and whether he would enjoy something like that. I just hope that he can find himself some sort of purpose over there.
Been going to the gym, of course, an average of four to five days a week, regretfully not with T, who has been too busy, which has been my saving grace really. I would have gone nutters without those workouts, that is a fact. This is definitely not an easy decision to take, but what can you do, really. Sometimes you have to let go and see where life takes you, rather than grittily holding onto that which you know.
Well, more has happened of course, but it is late once again, and I HAVE hit the highlights, so I’m
going to leave it at this. I need a glass of wine and then I’m off to bed.
