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Hot Shots

Yeah, we’re hot shots all right.  We’re hot – as in, moving in the middle of the summer – and shot, as in our bodies are shot to hell!

But we are officially moved now, all the stuff is here and we’re beginning to see something that resembles organization.  Most of the organization is directly G’s doing, because I’ve been out and about taking care of other stuff.  Today I was cleaning the old place whilst G was trying to make headway against the mountain of boxes in the new one.  I got everything done except the stove, and the oven at the old place is a bitch.  It’s hard to clean any oven but it’s nearly impossible working in such tight quarters, especially when you’re already motion challenged.  Throw in a complete lack of light and it’s almost beyond help.

Both G and I are most assuredly motion challenged after the past couple of days.  Poor G was borderline heart attack there for a while.  Pretty much EVERYONE who promised to help crapped out on us, family and friends alike.  The only one who didn’t was a guy we hired for a couple of hours (all we could really afford) and my youngest son, the latter of whom had to work until too late to be of any real help.  G refused to allow me to lift anything which meant he did it all, or pretty close thereto.  At the end I ignored his arguments and started carting boxes.  I wasn’t going to sit on my ass while he did all the work.  I could have and there are plenty of people who would’ve called it justified.  I’m just not wired like that.

Adding insult to injury, I dropped off the U-Haul yesterday only to discover that I didn’t have my car keys.  I was stranded for the HOUR it took my daughter and boyfriend to show up, whereupon they berated me for not calling them to help.  Today illustrated in succinct form exactly why we didn’t ask for their help.  The daughter was supposed to help me clean – and as you probably already gathered, she was a no-show.  Big surprise – NOT!

For my trouble I got a royal sunburn and I’m hurting like crazy, can barely move at all.   (Worst part was being on my feet for the entire hour.  The only place to sit was outdoors or on the floor.  I ended up doing both but by then my knee had pretty much imploded.)

But it’s done except for finishing up the oven at the old apartment, which is marinating overnight in professional-quality EZ Off.  (The oven,  not the apartment.)  Yes, it really is the pro stuff, got it at a restaurant supply.  Here’s hoping it is more cooperative tomorrow than it was today because I’m SO over cleaning the oven for the FOURTH TIME.

Thank God for the vacation days.  I cannot fathom pulling off this stuff and having to go directly back to work.

G is in a great mood now that the biggest part of the move is done.  We’re BOTH glad to be in a place that resembles a residence.  Inside it really mimics a house.  We also have reason now to think the cheap  imitation vinyl wood flooring is Pergo or its cousin.  Not hardwood but still not too bad.

Pictures forthcoming when I’m alive again.

The youngest son is heading out to bring me cash, which works for me.  We’re so broke it’s ridiculous, seriously.  If I had to go to work tomorrow I’d be screwed because I wouldn’t have enough gas to get there, much less to get there and back.  The kidlet is buying our washer.  He was furious though, because the buddy who was SUPPOSED to provide the truck, instead opted to get shit faced drunk..  Son found other arrangements but damn…  Seems to be the week for the cop out.

I am too tired to really make this much of an entry.  I’m going to go crash on the loveseat until the son arrives.   Hopefully by this time tomorrow I’ll be able to post from my OWN computer  The laptop is good to have but holy crap is it slow.  We’ve got the modem and router up and operating but gotta figure out the wiring options for the new place.  I don’t have a wireless card on my computer and buying one is currently WAY out of the question.  So there you go.

Okay, pumpkin time, whether or not it’s midnight.  I’m ready to roll up the sidewalks and call it a night.

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