Moving Adventures

This last week has been an adventure. With my back out, Mom came down to pack the whole house. We’d only gotten a small portion done before I picked her up from the airport on Saturday night. By Tuesday night, Mom had everything but the food packed: four bedrooms, two bathrooms, several loads of laundry, and about a hundred pictures. So, I took Mom out Wednesday for a day of beauty. We had manicures (the woman filed my nails so thin, I had to cut them all off), pedicures, and getting our hair styled (Mom’s turned out great).
Thursday the guys (from my old job) showed up to load the truck. Tom sent Chucky and Adrian. Chucky is this 30-something black guy who just loves life. He’s easy going and care-free. He drinks too much, doesn’t mind getting arrested, and calls me ‘Green Eyes’ and ‘Baby’ just to piss Tom off. I like Chucky. He’s a good guy—you know where you stand with him. And when it’s time to work, he works hard. Adrian, on the other hand, isn’t someone I know too well. He started about a month or two before I left, and he was always stand-off-ish. I’m not sad about that in the least after having spent part of Wednesday with him.
Early in the day, we were trying to get the large furniture out first. The huge pain-in-the-ass roll-top antique desk was a big question mark; as in, how the hell do we get this giant thing out of that little bitty door. Adrian asked about four times if Grant and I had had to take the door off… I told him four times that we did not. My husband and my un-coordinated ass managed to get it in the office without removing the door. This, I remember… along with getting my hand stuck between the desk and the wall—ow. Still, Adrian insisted on getting a measuring tape out to compare the door to the various dimensions of the desk. It won’t fit. We’re going to have to take the door off, and even then, I don’t know how we’ll get it out, Adrian kept saying. My mom had this great look on her face – this well-why-don’t-we-just-leave-it-here-then-so-it-doesn’t-inconvienence-you-negative-nelly. While Adrian went out to his car to get his tools to remove the door, Chucky and Mom maneuvered the desk out of the office and into the hall. When Adrian got back and saw the desk in the hallway, he helped Chucky to carry it out and acted as if nothing had taken place. I worked very hard not to piss myself.
Adrian spent the day pissing Mom off. Every time Mom said “put such-and-such in that opening,” Adrian paused and doubted—often openly. With the heat and the amount of crap loaded into the POD, it’s amazing he walked out of there with his chin—and balls—intact.
We did get everything in the POD with room to spare—further proof that my mother could walk on water if she ever had the inclination. After everything was packed away and the POD had been picked up (Friday), Mom and I headed to the Days Inn with Italics and Bagheera while the cleaning crew from Molly Maids (not recommended) cleaned the apartment.
Mom and I made it to Texas on Sunday. The drive up was crazy. The first day was marked by several almost accidents because I was falling asleep at the wheel; the second was accented by playing chicken with a semi because the asshole behind the wheel picked the wrong two chicks to get pissy with. But we made it. I got to have Jack-in-the-Box and Krystal Burger. The cats enjoyed the cage considerably more than the box they’ve traveled in before. And, yes, my throat was sore Sunday night from two days of singing too much too loud. 🙂
I’ve already found an apartment here in Sugar Land. It’s a 2/1 with cherry wood cabinets, a flat-top stove, and a bathroom the size of Wyoming. I’m getting the keys and moving the cats in tomorrow. Ian’s bedroom has been their temporary home, but I hate locking them up in one room all day.
The POD isn’t going to be here until next Monday, so I won’t be able to stay with them at night, but I still think they’d be happier with some time to get used to the apartment and have some time to adjust after all this activity.
 
 
Today is the first day I cried. Sunday, in the last few hours, I realized how scared I am for him this time. Tonight, I realized how much I’m going to miss him this time.
And I don’t feel like I fit in here yet. My ‘family’ that I knew growing up is gone. And, granted, I’ve traded up… but it’s just… not what I know. And it doesn’t help that I’m uncomfortable in my own body. My back is trying to heal, and I’m working on letting it. It’s just a hard adjustment.
 
I have to look forward… new apartment pictures tomorrow (or when I have a real internet connection, because the one at Mom’s sucks like you wouldn’t believe).
 
Wish me luck… and pray for Grant’s safety (he’s made it to Afghanistan, but still has the convoy part of his trip left).