The guys from church were here a little before 9:30. They were done at a 10:46. There is still a lot of little stuff to corral and move, as I ran out of boxes and energy well before I ran out of stuff. But all the heavy stuff is here, somewhere, and I have faith that in process of time I will be able to lay hands on it. Our beds are set up, and LittleBit and I are about to take a nap or three.
Everything hurts. I have spent far more time on my feet the past couple of days than is normal for me, but I got everything out of the far recesses of the cabinets. We have borrowed a couple of stepstools so we can pull the last of the nails from the walls. At moments like this, Shaker simplicity is incredibly tempting. And as for my mantra, Keep a messy room and you will never be tempted to jump off the Chastity Wagon, well all I can say is PHBTTTT! I think I am changing my mantra to, Keep your room picked up and a loaded shotgun by the bed. It would make the next move ever so much easier!
I am at that point of weariness where the slightest kindness will make me weep. Thus the need for a nap before my visiting teacher from church brings dinner. One of the work party this morning, a former bishop, asked if I had asked the Relief Society to help me finish the packing. And my eyes just filled up, and I could barely tell him that I’m sure there are people who would be willing to help.
I do appreciate that willingness. But I am a difficult person to serve, because of all the years that we spent on and off church welfare when I was married. I just want to do it myself, even if it takes longer. Yeah, it’s stubborn and it’s a little stupid at the moment. Maybe a lot stupid, and I am just sufficiently not-exhausted to realize it. Maybe I’ll unbend a little after I’ve had that nap.
I got a row of knitting done after packing the last box in the kitchen this morning. And there will be more knitting after the nap. I I don’t care if a single box gets unpacked, I am aching for beauty amid all this chaos.
I am and will be everlastingly grateful to the good brethren who gave up a portion of their Saturday morning to help us out.
I wrote most of the above just before noon. I have napped. I have made a run to Jack In The Box for a small hamburger for me and regular fries for sharing, and a Jumbo Jack for LittleBit, and two blackberry shakes: one with whipped cream and a cherry for her, one without for me. I also stopped at the old place to get my tool box, because I need my staple gun. We only moved one of my cheapie knocked-together bookcases this morning, but the cardboard backing is waving like a hussy as the fleet pulls in. Once I get her stabilized [I think we need about three pints of Ringers’ lactate, Roy], then I can empty three [actually, six] boxes into her and take them over to the old place to refill.
The image that comes to mind is of the seagulls that flew into the fields in Utah and ate up the crickets, pausing only to regurgitate them and go back for more. Except today I feel more like the cricket than the seagull.
With one bookcase nearly full and six boxes emptied, I think a knitting break is more than justified.
Putting on my turn signal, because I am changing directions. You know how the old apartment complex was going to have the parking lot repaved? I overheard the regional poobah telling someone at her corporate office that it needed to get done, or the city would fine them on Monday. What happened? The crew sprayed a thin layer of black tarry-smelling substance over the parking lot. They filled no holes in our neck of the woods, that's for sure. And while I was napping, they came back and reset the barriers that everyone had pushed aside so we [four households that I know of] could move and put in new striping. When I went back to get my staple gun, I parked just outside the barriers and put my flashers on.
Big fix, all right, though LittleBit says that on the far west end of the parking lot, where there had been VW-eating potholes, the paving company actually filled them.
It is now 8:08pm, we have had dinner and prayers, LittleBit is in bed, I have made a quick dash to the pharmacy to renew my dalliance with Mr. Lasix, and I think I know where my jammies are. The alarm is at the old place, so I’ve set it on my cell phone.
Knitting, here I come!
- Four years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!