The big envelope arrived in the mail today, following the email from two Thursdays ago. I've been accepted to my first choice of school for an MBA, beginning this August, and with it the beginnings of a move with my fiancee and our two cats to Toronto, Ontario, a place I've never been. When I found out, I didn't think I could smile any wider; I took it to bed with me that night and it has smoothed out many stresses and feelings of entrapment.
The big swing connected and the ball is over the fence, but the game's just starting. While we're hardly moving to Outer Mongolia or Antarctica, there are already a blizzard of things to figure out and unknowns surrounding finances, visas, how to move everything, where to live. I'm wishing I had my aunt's zeal for making lists, but in channeling that, it'll be better than trying to keep it all in my head, as is normal. And hopefully the lists will enable me to better enjoy the full picture of a new country, having never lived outside of the Twin Cities.
All the "move to Canada" jokes never did much for me prior to the first W presidency, as my third-party preference prompted someone to put a hand on my stomach at a house party and say "you wouldn't understand since you haven't got a womb." All the left-wing superiority complexes put together haven't kept America from sliding into a ditch that I never could have imagined as I was growing up, and while Canada is not nirvana, I'd much rather get a fresh start by making a clean break, as I approach the stereotypical mid-life with a new determination.
More to follow. I'm already glad to have started.
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