Tie me kangaroo down

So now that I’m faced with having to go home to Wisconsin early, I’m learning a whole ‘nother set of interesting bits of Australian life. First thing is, four weeks notice is customary when moving out of rented property. Four weeks. At the last two places I lived in River Falls it was more than that (one 2 months, one 90 days). Not that there’s anything wrong with either of those.

And then Friday I decided I’d better start letting other people know I’m leaving, like the electric company (who still haven’t sent me a bill). Funny thing is, I went to their website, and followed a few links, and look! you can connect, disconnect, move your service FROM A FORM ON THE WEB SITE. Why didn’t they tell me this when I signed up for the service in the first place?!

So I filled out their form to get disconnected October 18th. And then I went to the Australia Post web site to find out what it takes to forward my mail after I leave. And here’s the weird thing: you get different service levels depending on how much you pay them. For one month’s forwarding, you pay $9; three months, $22; six months, $33; twelve months, $66. Totally bizarre when you’re from the USA and they do it for free for a full year.

And on today’s agenda is: 1. visiting a Telstra shop (again) to get my phone disconnected, 2. visiting the GPO to see if my mail has arrived there yet, 3. visiting Darrell Lea again to get more chocolate. And I might have lunch at Subway since I haven’t done that in a while.

Oh yeah, and I have to get my plane tickets changed too. So I emailed my travel agent and asked her what I’d have to do, and she said she’d look into it and get back to me. It’s been over a week now and she hasn’t gotten back to me yet. Since it’s Sunday evening there, I’ll give her till this time tomorrow before I do anything else about it.

Six days till the Weird Al concert. Eight days till we board the train for Broken Hill, NSW, to visit Darrin’s mum & stepdad. Five days later we come back to Adelaide, and a week after that my visa expires and I have to go home. Where it’s getting cold, there’s no Tim Tams or Darrell Lea, the closest Wetzel’s Pretzels is at Twin Cities International Airport, and you have to pay at least twice as much for a leg of lamb.

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