Thursday, September 18, 2008

The Seemingly Endless Move

My befuddled brain made an interesting observation whilst emailing my pal Susan yesterday: First, I’m packing and packing and packing and when I’m not packing, I’m thinking about packing and then I’m dreaming about packing…and then, in a blink…I’m unpacking and unpacking and I’m thinking “Wait. Didn’t I just wrap this baby up in bubble wrap like, yesterday?”

If I don’t see another packing item for the next two years minimum, I’ll be a happy gal. Any sooner and I’m gonna need some serious box-and-packing-tape-therapy….otherwise, I’ll be developing facial tics and jumping in alarm at the very sight of a scotch tape dispenser or a box of Lucky Charms. (I believe it’s called transference…or some other equally psychotic word. Either way, it won’t be pretty… believe me.)

(Takes sip of Cloudy and shivers.)

Okay, so Jack and Tonia acted as my crew the day of the move. Did I mention this? And by “crew”, I mean they told me I had to stand in the garage and direct the movers on which direction to bring the endless items from the truck, whilst they arranged my furniture upstairs, unpacked and organized my kitchen space, drank untold amounts of liquor and undoubtedly had many laughs at my expense whilst unpacking my boundless assortment of kitchen utensils. Every once in a while, Jack would wander in and refill my Cloudy, only to disappear in a blink to my protests of “Hey! HEY!” as yet another hand truck of whine-inscribed boxes found their way into the garage.

Right before everyone left, Tonia was kind enough to take me on a personal, guided tour of my stocked kitchen cabinets. Some people might be appalled at the thought of someone else organizing their kitchen…but I’m not “some people”. I know a good deal when I see one and I “oohed and aahed” as each cabinet door was opened and its contents was revealed.

The next morning, the cable guy was due to arrive and connect our phone, cable and internet “sometime between 8am and whenever the hell we feel like getting there”. I could not tell you when he finally showed, but it was still light out…that I remember. He also had the darkest blue eyes I’ve ever seen…they were very striking. And that, faithful readers, is the only good thing I have to say about him. We’ll name him “Techno-Not”…or “TN” for short.

TN walked around with me to see what I wanted where and took what I thought were copious notes, which I now believe were nothing more than a list of his options for lunch that day. He disappeared for a while, pronounced us golden and took off (probably to get that sandwich on his list).

It was a good half hour before it dawned on me to check the phone.

No dial tone.

Then, I checked the teevee.


I didn’t even bother booting up my laptop, as I’d a pretty good idea of what I wouldn’t find there.

As cellphone reception is less than ideal here (honestly, one of my few complaints) I had to go into the far corner of the living room, stand on the arm of the couch, place one foot on the windowsill and spend the next 20 minutes navigating the automated system of my new local cable carrier. I finally reached a “Tiffany”, who sounded as tired as I felt:

Tiffany: (Sigh.) “Can I help you? Or can it wait until tomorrow?” (I think she may not have actually said this last part.)

Me: “The tech was here and I’ve got nothing. Great first impression.”

T: “Thanks. Can I put you on hold?”


I wait…alternating left foot, then right on the windowsill…temporary amnesia kicking in as I stare at that wondrous view…and then a jolt of reality as I check to see if the call’s dropped. Amazingly, it hadn't.


T: “You’re not in our system.”

Me: “But. He was HERE.”

T: “WHO was there? One of our guys?”

Me: “I dunno. Dark hair….nice eyes. I didn’t catch his name. I haven’t slept in about three days.”

T: “I don’t know who that was, but you’re not in our system.”

Me: “Yes, you’ve said that already. What do we do now? I have no phone, no teevee, no nothing.”

T: “How’s September 18th?”

Me: “WHAT? Are you kidding me??”

T: “Okay…how about October 2nd?”

Around this time, Connor wanders into the room and announces “Mom? I don’t feel so good.” His cheeks are bright red and even in the dim fading light of day, I can see he’s got a fever.


It is at this point that I shall bid you good day, as my tired fingers are becoming quite uncooperative on this keyboard…and the box cutter in my pocket is cutting off the circulation in my leg.

It’s to be continued…. (but, you knew that already…didn’t you?)

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