"There's no puppy in here"

I'M BACK IN BOSTON!!! It feels like forever since I have been in this city I now call home - it feels wonderful and overwhelming all at the same time! I will be so happy when my car is empty, my furniture is in my room, and I can officially call my new apartment home.

I have to say this, though, as I sit on the couch posting this blog tonight. I miss my boys. I miss going home to the roommates that so quickly became my friends. I may not have had a couch. Or gas, cable, or air conditioning. But, we had a wonderful friendship. But, then again, sitting on a very comfortable couch watching Seinfeld with my sweet Ella (puppy), I realize that we can still be friends over coffee, dinner, and nights out at the gay clubs. I rather like this life of "comfort".

The drive back was as interesting, if not more, than the drive to Michigan. Let me set this up. As you know, I brought my dog back with me. So, on Sunday morning, 'K' and I pack up the car with all of my belongings, more of hers, and leave a nice spot for Ella on the back seat. Without any room to spare, and tears in my eyes, we take off. It's about 30 minutes to the Canadian border. We pull up into the line and get our passports ready. We are confident that we'll make it through without problems. Just then, 'K' gives me a look that could only mean "Houston, we have a problem."

"You DO have papers for Ella, right?" she asks me.

My face turns stark white. I don't even know where her papers are. We are 3 cars away from the border patrol.

We decide to just test fate and see what happens. The agent looks at out passports, asks how long we'll be in the country, and lets us through. Without even noticing the dog in the back seat. I let out a huge sigh.

"The problem isn't getting into Canada," says 'K'. "It's going to be getting out."

Here we are, 2 grown women, afraid to drive 1 mile over the speed limit because we're afraid of being pulled over by the authorities. Of course the dog issue wasn't the ONLY drama of the trip - that would simply be boring! After making it through border patrol, I suddenly realized that the notebook I left behind at my parents' house had my updated proof of car insurance. The one currently in my glove box is expired. Nice. And, don't forget the unpaid speeding ticket in New York state. And the expired license plates. And, now, a dog without the proper papers.

We crawl through Canada at about 10 miles per hour. It was brutal. We get to the last exit before the bridge to the U.S. and pull off. I run in to use the bathroom at one of the hundreds of Tim Hortons along the way. I am 6th in line. It's finally my turn. I walk in to see toilet paper all over the floor. And a fly. And the worst thing possible to find in a women's bathroom: those little, thin, toilet paper sheets. You all know exactly what I'm talking about. And you haven't seen them in like 20 years. But, you know the drill. You can NEVER use too many, and it takes forever to "collect" them for use. My tactic? Just start pulling and collecting. I finally finish (thanks to the extensive "TP-collection" time), wash my hands, and exit what I now refer to as 'Hell'.

'K' and I begin re-arranging the car. We move everything from the floor to the seat. We hang the bags of clothes from the driver's seat and drape them onto the seat. Then, we put Ella on the floor and shut the door. You couldn't even see her! I make 'K' drive. I am simply too nervous to be the driver in this particular situation. We pull out of the parking lot and drive towards the bridge. We pass Niagara Falls. Breathtaking. We carefully choose the lane we will be going through. As we pull up, the man in the next lane over is opening his trunk. I begin sweating. Naturally, we start talking about sex, orgasms, and celibacy. It's our turn. The man asks us our citizenship, and why we're in Canada. We explain that I'm moving to Boston, which is the reason for all the clothes. And shoes. He laughs and asks if we have a lot of purses. "Of course," we answer in unison. He then begins to explain how to move furniture and other items through Canada - the forms you need to fill out, how much time it should take, etc. We were talking with this man for about 8 minutes. The entire time, Ella was silent as a mouse underneath mounds of clothing. He lets us through. We cheer. Now, we just need to get through New York.

15 hours after we left my parents' house in Michigan, we arrived in Maine. As we pulled into the driveway at 2:00 in the morning, 'K' turns to me and says: "you must be destined for great things, Kristin, because God sure has been saving your ass a lot lately..."