One Doc Down, One to Go

I've not been very vocal in here on my attempt at becoming a permanently interdependent resident of the Commonwealth of Australia. I haven't been very vocal at all, because for some reason, writing about the strange grocery store clerk at Woolworth's who whines when I don't go into her line doesnt seem very interesting to me.

Next time I'll make it so. For now, what I've got before I receive a piece of paper or doff of the hat from Australian immigration is one more doctor's appointment. The first of two was two days ago, and it entailed a conversation about Barack Obama's win and some drawn blood. Oh, and a chest X-ray. I'm hoping they don't find anything.

Besides all this, I've got pretty much everything ready: letters from people; completed applications for me and the girl; character form is filled out; fingerprints are back; two passport photos; proof of correspondence when we lived apart last year; proof of my living here; boarding passes from all out trips; and whatever else I'm forgetting to mention. It's all ready to go one month before our appointment.

After that it's "please let me be a temporary resident" and then I wait for six months or something like that. Hopefully I will have been working, though, thanks to the permission I'll be granted on December 8. Permanent residency comes two years after temporary residency. And then citizenship. But I don't want that.

For once, I'm not planning very far ahead. We will be

fleeing Brisbane in about two months for Sydney. Maybe sooner. And until then, I'll hang out, work on last year's NaNoWriMo book (more on that later), read, and begin the search for editing jobs. After I figure out how to spell pediatric and remember that a two-story building is actually a two-storey building.