This is not a paper trail. This is a paper mountain, a paper highway. A dragon, perhaps? (Or would its fiery breath burn everything to useless cinders)? From gathering paperwork for five beginning in May (remember this one? One of Five) and ending on one last string of hope with printed boarding passes, I have thought many times, the paper trail ends today. It ends with the visa in the mail. No, with the printouts of hotel and car rental reservations. Oh wait! The bank account setup, phone contract, and lease agreement. But… you mean, I need a foreigners’ social security number? And my husband too? AND my three girls (EVERYTHING x5)?

I even put a Facebook post, a month ago: DONE with Spanish paperwork! So proud! Until… the light bill. The employment paperwork, more trips to the bank, the ayuntamiento, more forms to print, make copies of, mail (it got to the point, with the shitty Spanish hours of 9-2 for everything, that we gave up and bought our own fucking printer).

Bruce said to me today, “No more paperwork for years!” I almost laughed in his face. “Are you forgetting that in eight months I have to renew my teaching license, get a new job, find an apartment, sign up for a new cell phone plan…” the list goes on.

This is the year of my yellow-brick-road of paperwork, the sheets the bricks leading me to the compilation of my dreams, the carpe diem of my life… My paper highway, like a long tail trailing behind me, is all a matter of moments traded for filling out forms to sunning on the Mediterranean, to seeing Picasso’s art in person, to visiting Roman ruins.

I think I’m done, I’m really done! (Oh wait… I have to vote? To print, complete, scan, email…?)