just wrong

The other day I moved in. The apartment is full of boxes, some still full while others have emptied their content all over the living room floor, and I don't have internet yet. That's why this post is a bit late and the next might not be immediately following.

My boxes, mattress, sofa and all those little things that never made it into a box had been in temporary storage for a week. To get them out, I rented a truck, which was a challenge in itself. Saturday afternoon, after I had signed the lease, all rental agencies had already closed for the weekend. On Monday, they were open but wanted a proof of address for renting to me.

With some flexibility, this problem was sorted out, and Monday night saw me all ready to move. Driving on the left is not overwhelmingly confusing. One basically goes with the flow and doesn't do anything creative like intuitively picking a lane. In intersections and roundabouts one has to constantly remind oneself not to head into oncoming traffic.

To make things really interesting, my little truck had the steering wheel on the right side and stick for the stick shift on the left. I'm used to these implements having their proper place, opposite from what I found them to be this time around. Driving felt not unlike being stuck in a parallel universe. Imagine trying to shift with the window crank. And then the inverted left-right proportions.

Everyone who drives knows that there is about half a meter of car to his left and judges distances with it. My truck extended by a meter and a half. Navigating narrow streets I came close to grating the cars parked on the left more than just once. And turns! And parking! Ooolala. At first I laughed madly at the incongruity of it all, but after less ten minutes I was sweating away. It was exhausting, and I was so happy to leave the truck later that night – without a scratch. Now I'll be stuck in my apartment for a while trying to make it nice before mom comes to visit.