This migration was a tough trip.
Some of it, you know. We endured oral surgery, trips to the emergency room, several veterinarians, power steering outage, expensive auto repairs, a fire in the next pasture, a snippy waiter, plus rain and snow which prompted a route change. But this wasn’t the worst of it.
This could have been – a phone call from Texas was all about the scalding water pouring out the front of the condo we had locked up for the season a few days earlier.
This was close to being the worst -- an earthquake. Seriously, a 2.5 earthquake hit outside Minneapolis when we arrived. But, nope, this wasn’t the worst of it either.
Nothing prepared me for the final insult. Both Minneapolis and St. Paul should be in lock-down. The pot holes are vicious and dangerous and there are lots and lots of them. However, this was still not the worst.
Here’s the worst: When we left Texas, I had five ballpoint pens. When we arrived in Minnesota, I had none.