In Hell, nobody is competent. But Hell must still be endured. We are apparently not very good at moving. The day of the move and we are still frantically throwing things in boxes, frantically showering, frantically trying to clean the house up. It's the day of franticity, inefficiency, and fatigue. Also really hot and humid.
So, we finally left about 430pm, hours and hours later than we should have left, with a long seven hour drive to Bangor ahead of us.
The caravan is led by Rob, who has the GPS in his car, with Zoë, Pie and Ruby, followed by Denise in my car (with Plato and Mia), and finally me, in the Penske truck, going nuts because I have very little way of communicating with Rob except by phone. We encounter torrential rains after dark. Ridiculous detours trying to find gas for the truck, which is a major gas guzzler.
The GPS doesn't know where the Fireside Inn is in Bangor. It is on MAIN STREET, which happens to the the MAIN street in Bangor. Nope. It sends us to the wrong town -- Veazie -- and a dinky little Main street. We finally arrive at the motel at 2am. Desperately tired. We sleep for about 6 hours before we have to get up and start all over again.
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