Well, after 2 days of moving (read: sweating and cussing and finally throwing things willy-nilly into the storage unit), I'm done. Moved, cleaned, and Sold. It was approximately 150,685 degrees yesterday as I was packing such important items as the shampoo from my shower, the paper towel rack, the bathroom rugs (which most likely I will throw away when I unpack....next week), a cutting board, etc. You know, all the things that you forget you have until you need to move them somewhere or after you throw them away and then must re-purchase them at a highly inflated rate. It seriously took 1 hour to move all the big things with mucho laughter and a few beers on Monday evening, but Tuesday took a shit all over me. I got an early start and made one fruitful trip, ate lunch, and then was left to my own devices for the rest of the day. Bad idea. I'm not good at working on something alone when not getting paid for it. I'm totally the person that wanders around the house for an hour or two...ok, maybe two...with a box in my hands or a roll of paper towels or both muttering and rubbing my forehead because I just don't know where to start or whether to just burn it down or throw everything away and lock the door or curl up into the fetal position. Thankfully, a well-timed phone call and the realization that after 3 months of not doing anything, I now had 3 hours to finish EVERYTHING. I walked out at 4:55...just as the buyers were pulling in to do their final walkthrough. We closed this morning. I may have danced a jig (a la the Last Boyscout) on my way out of the room.
That all being said, I'm now staying at my dad's til I move again next Friday. But, I have a neat little room with my own personal air conditioner and since I'm off work today, absolutely nothing to do. Sure, I should pitch in and cut the grass or something, but to that I say hell no. I don't get a day off during the week very often...unless you count, um, yesterday...today...and next Friday.
When the a/c units kick on upstairs, the lights flash. Just like in the old prison movies when someone gets fried in the chair. If I see a mouse or a really, really big black guy, I'm getting the hell out of here.
Frank Sinatra's on the radio now...all music, all day...fitting for an antique shop, or shoppe if you prefer...but it's not the same without a glass of wine. Of course, it IS 2:00...hell, I'm having one.
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Congrats on the move in progress. You must be pretty excited to settle in.
And yeah, I'm the same way. I always forget to pack stuff like, I don't know, can openers and whatnot. And, left to my own devices, I'll sit and look through my photo albums for four hours rather than just put them on a shelf and move on.
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