Moving, Part 2

I moved into the new house Monday. Not new, exactly, fifteen years old, but new to me. The boxes from the storage locker and from my daughter’s house are still piled up everywhere. For the first two days, they seemed like the loaves and the fishes, no matter how many I emptied and cut down and piled up, the stacks never seemed to diminish.

Today, I finally saw a reduction in the cardboard multitude. I have my toothbrush. Yay! I have one pan. I had to scramble my eggs in that sauce pan this morning. I have, Thank you Lord, everything I need for coffee. I have, Thank You, again, underwear that isn’t full of soap.

My daughter and I lived together for almost three months and survived. We’re both accustomed to being the one to give orders, so there was a fair amount of tongue-biting on both our parts—most of the time.

I did the customary battle with the cable companies and the TV companies. I have internet. I have TV. I finally have a refrigerator with ice and water. There’s something wrong with the new—brand new—out-of-the-box washer. It makes a terrible grinding noise. I stopped it and called them yesterday. They said they’d call me back to schedule a service call. That was over twenty-four hours ago. No word yet. I have a machine full of soapy clothes with the water drained out, and I got it to spin. At the moment, my wet things, including my underwear, with the soap still in it, are hanging all over the house. No phone call yet.

Abigail, the dog, likes the new neighborhood. Lots of new dog pee to sniff and pee over. I walk her every morning and try to go a little farther each day. The first three days, we went to the end of the long block and back. Now, we’re going all the way around the block. The idea is, she’ll know her way home if she ever gets out.
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The furniture isn’t in place yet. I’m sleeping on the mattress on the floor. It will be a great joy when all the pieces are where they belong. Of course, I’ll probably move everything two or three times before I know where things should stay, but still.

The cats are still living with their sister until the flow of workmen subsides. It will be interesting to see how they like the new place.

The great comic, Sinbad, said, “We don’t need prisons. If someone does something wrong, make them move.”

I wonder what it was I did.

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