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twelve days late

the journal of Michael Werneburg

twenty-seven years and one million words

Kokubunji, 2022.08.22

We're back in Japan. I found myself busily tackling a work assignment on the express train in from the airport - such as the crazy demands when you're "working from eleven time zones away".

I finally had a negative PCR test on Friday. I bought a ticket on Sunday on the same flight as Mari and the kids, and then the scramble began. We sorted out all our things, giving away a few last-minute items like some plastic containers and an old Tempur mattress cover. I took the car to the dealership, canceled the insurance, and did a bit of shopping for things I can't easily find in Japan (like Head and Shoulders shampoo). Meanwhile Mari took The Girl to finally see the friend she'd been meant to see for a sleepover in Blue Mountain on our second weekend, and The Boy visited with a friend he still hadn't seen.

Needless to say, The Girl had a fever of 38.6 the night before we were supposed to fly, but it seemed to be a stomach bug. We got to the airport by 09:50 for our 13:30 flight and Pearson being the mess it is - and the bizarre process that Japan has come up with to pre-screen people for a COVID PCR test - by 13:00 we were still not at our gate and neither was half the flight. So we eventually lifted off at 14:30.

Touching down in Tokyo (well, Narita, anyway, which is in a different prefecture) we were subjected to more bizarre processes, which included having to show the strange mobile app plus our passport in not one but two rooms. It was nice to get home on my own (in preparation for a normal day's work tomorrow) and to "open up the house". We'd left a small fan on in the upstairs bathroom and left the door open so the entire second floor was cooler than the 50+ I was expecting (without exaggeration!). The place was not crawling with ants, which was a relief.

rand()m quote

The best way to get most husbands to do something is to suggest that perhaps they're too old to do it.

—Ann Bancroft