Today, we celebrate the 1988 arrival in Maine of one (1) black Chevrolet Beretta driven by myself, orange-and-white Archie McGee, and tabbycat Brandee riding shotgun; and one (1) UHaul rent-a-van packed with what was left of our Worldly Goods, driven by Steve, with Arwen as his copilot.
We made Skowhegan in the afternoon, first stop at the address of the guy who had rented us a house, long-distance, there to find out that his daughter had left her husband during the three days it had taken us to drive up from Maryland, and instead of a place to unload, we got our money back. We then went to the offices of the Skowhegan Reporter to let Steve’s boss (who had hired him likewise long-distance) know he was in town. Boss had been reassigned, and no, Steve didn’t have a job.
We finally made landing at Maitland Richardson’s Skowhegan campground. The managers there, despite they were shutting down for the winter, kindly rented us a cabin and swore that they would tell staff to winterize it last. That done, we deposited the cats in the cabin, rented a storage unit, unpacked the UHaul, went to Shop and Save to pick up salads and the large bottle of wine, returned to the cabin and collapsed.
Today’s celebrations will include, we hope, receiving the new Covid booster, followed by ice cream, followed by viewing Asteroid City from the comfort of our living room, possibly with the company of three Maine coon cats.