Day One: July 2 and 3

Part 1: The Passport and My Inner Voice

It is 4:00 am in the morning and I am unable to sleep.  My internal clock has not adjusted to Italian time. 

Before I left, I had a great idea to set up a blog that would chronicle our (Sheena and I) journeys and adventures in Italy.  However, I was counting on WiFi in our hotel rooms (I am pretty sure I booked hotels listed WiFi service).  Well, I guess I didn’t in Rome.  I booked us a hotel in Rome that has WiFi in the front lobby and on the rooftop terrace.  So my plan hasn’t totally worked out to post onto a blog daily.  Nevertheless, Michael Koops is not to be stopped by some minor technical difficulties (ok, so here I want you to imagine triumphant superhero soundtrack)…I will keep a journal on Word and post it onto the blog when I have easier WiFi access or when I haul the laptop (so the story with the laptop is that I took the crappy broke down laptop that doesn’t work without a power cord, because I didn’t totally care if it got stolen or damaged) up to the terrace or down to the lobby.  So to keep on going like you care about this technical difficulty and needless to ramble on more, I am going to still keep a blog…sort of…well, really it’s a journal that will turn into a blog.

Before we left for Italy, Sheena began to do something which really speaks to her mental health and dealing with me.  She has begun to identify my inner voice.  So, apparently, after 25 years of marriage, Sheena thinks she can read my micro-expressions and tell what I am really thinking.  She then translates it into this high squeaky and slightly pouty little boy’s voice.  For example, before we left Sheena has suggested to me that she take care of my passport in her purse.  However, I have told her that I want to keep my passport, because the passport wallets that we bought for them will work well as my wallet where I will keep my cards and my money.  Moreover, I am thinking it is good, in case we get separated, that I have my own passport. 

Sheena has watched my micro-expressions and translates this as “I can take care of my own passport – it’s my passport” in that high squeaky and slightly pouty little boy’s voice.

So on Tuesday night, the night before we fly to Italy, Sheena and I decide that it would be a good idea to sleep at Andrea’s in Regina.  That way we can get up early enough to get to the airport by 5:30 am for our 6:30 am flight.  We can go and have coffee in the Tim Horton’s in the airport.  It will be a less stressful than leaving our house in Fort Qu’Appelle super early.  That is until I lose my wallet with the passport in it. 

Yep, we haven’t even left the province and I have lost my passport.  Sheena, Andrea, and I scramble around Andrea’s house looking for this passport.  Fortunately, after 10 minutes I find it has fallen behind the trunk in Andrea’s spare room.  More, fortunately Sheena doesn’t give me that “told you so” look nor does she practice her high squeaky and slightly pouty little boy’s inner voice, because he might have been saying bad words.