What did I think? I thought he was nuts, and that wasn't because of what he posed, just that he posed it. As I said, he's usually the practical one, and I come up with these hair-brained adventures. Once in a while, though, he surprises me.
The truth of the matter, though, is that we probably could live in Europe semi-permanently . . . or even permanently if not for a few minor inconveniences. Taking out of consideration the distance from Jason, our families and friends (and the cost), I struggled to come up with five reasons I couldn't live in Europe permanently.
I would have to take Riley with me if we were moving. That isn't as much a problem as how to get him there. While most of Europe doesn't have a quarantine law for pets, the big hassle would be transporting him on a plane. I would never put him in cargo for such a long flight. That means, I would have to shove his chunky butt into a carry-on case, and while he fits, it's more like a sausage casing which, considering his porky little self, would be appropriate.
Once I solved *that* problem, I'd have to figure out where to put him while on the plane. If you saw my post about our flight home, you know that we are now spoiled since we flew business class. The bit problem with that is that there is no place to stow a case during take-off and landing except in the overhead bin. While he'd fit, I don't know if the airlines would permit it.
Don't worry, Little Dude. We'll figure it out.
4. Uncovered Food in Markets & Stores
Americans complain a lot about the post offices here. Heck, if you live in our area, our post office is about 8 miles away (There are two a lot closer, but heaven forbid the government should make things easy.), and it is always always always packed with customers waiting in line to go to one of two manned windows. Think that's bad? Think again.
"Laurie, is there a post office near here?" I asked our Spoleto host one afternoon. "I need to get a box to mail some stuff home."
He told us how to get to the closest one and added, "It's quite busy, though." He told us about another one that was almost as close.
"Is service faster in that one?" I asked. Silly me.
"No," he replied. "It's worse. If you go there, plan on taking a lunch." (Hello! Why even bother mentioning it then?)
So what do you do in the post office that is so maddening?
Take your number, sit, and watch the displays sssslllloooowwwwllllyyy move when a patron who was smart enough to get there earlier than you finally finishes and leaves. Try not to fall asleep while the heat inside the building increases in proportion to the number of people (A LOT!) waiting in the lobby. Wonder what is so complicated that it takes every customer about 10-20 minutes to complete his or her transaction. Glare at the man who has burped loud enough to wake the dead. Jump up and yell as soon as you see your number finally appear on the screen and stamp on feet or jump over chairs to get to the counter so the clerk who is lucky enough to get you doesn't think you aren't there and moves on to the next number. Thirty seconds of hand-signaling and broken Italian later, the clerk sends you on your way without performing a transaction and takes the next number.
Of course, I could fix this one, too. I'd never mail anything. End of story.
Bottom line, I could live with most of these things by simply avoiding them. Heck, we've moved all over the country and adapted. Europe wouldn't be that big of a stretch. The weather is a big issue, though. It's one reason we moved back to Vegas, so you know we put a lot of importance on good weather. Sigh.
Any of you have reasons you couldn't move somewhere?