Oh, the thrill of a keyboard and the ability to go on-line at a moment’s notice have me in a state of wild writing abandon (yeah, where I abandon all finer points of grammar and coherent sentences and run on and on). Where have I been for the last 20 days or so? Since this was a move into another rental (bye-bye stinky pee-pee) and we had used up all of our relocation goodness from my husband’s pulp mill, we were on our own. So, what do ya do when your new place is four miles as the crow flies, 15 minutes as the crazy-lady drives (that would be me) the back roads, or 40 minutes for paved smoothness? Well partner, hold on tight, cuz it is a bumpy ride!
1-Spend countless hours and several days assembling really heavy horse panels in lieu of digging fence post holes and nailing boards, wrapping wires, and attaching other equine fencing materials. Why? Because the new place boarders a creek (long e, please–creeeeeeeeek) and the land is fraught with rocks. Good for drainage, bad for post-hole diggers. And I greatly thank my mamma for driving over three hours to assist with the heavy work, err, equine preparedness fun.
2-Stand in the cat-pee palace and scratch your head, frown a lot, and wonder where to start first. Wait until the horse panels are done so you have approximately 22 hours remaining to pack before a college buddy drives his three hours (and brings his wife—to assist me and little son—to distract mine) for the move.
3-Day 1 (Monday) of the actual move: get up, make breakfast, pray, and pack like a woman gone mad. Luckily husband had horse stuff and man stuff to do outside or I would have tornadoed him to the wall with my bursts of whirling speed. Strong help arrives. Stand in kitchen with friend and pack everything, but the bowls and spoons and simmering soup. Load the 3-horse horse trailer (uh, yes, it was “mostly” sprayed and swept clean—thanks, honey, I really didn’t need to know that “mostly” tid-bit) with the “essentials” in the sleeping quarters section (yes, human sleeping area where absolutely no horse gunk is allowed as per crazy lady’s insistence) and then everything else is fair game for the horse hauling section. One truck, horse trailer, another truck, and a Subaru wagon (loaded with kid, 2 dogs, and whatever else I could cram in before doors burst off of hinges), and then we all set off for the creek side home.
4- Day 1 of getting to the new home: Uh, what are all the cars doing here? Okay, so the house isn’t finished and you all are working still. It is February 1st, we paid three weeks ago, it is 1pm, we are here and we are moving in. Um, please move your saws. Okay, we have to stack everything in the living room. Okay, here you go. See that speckle of dirt, no, it’s really not dirt, IT IS MY SANITY AND YOU JUST INHALED IT UP YOUR NOSE! Oh, was I shouting? My husband has this one day off. He leaves at 3am for training in another town tomorrow. We have a horse trailer of stuff coming across the bridge right now. And we have two more loads of horses because we have 4 horses and a 3-horse horse trailer. And, oh, yes, I will wait here with the first load and both little boys and both dogs (locked in the car cuz there are strangers in my home) and try to unpack the kitchen stuff. But look, there is stuff in the cupboards and fridge and oh, yes, the freezer too. The owner hasn’t moved out yet. Lovely. Really, he is a good man. But hello! It is the 1st of February!
5-Day 1 of my deep throes of insanity: WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?! It is 8pm. Go away. We need to eat and find bedding and go to sleep. And this Simple Country Girl may need a trip to the moon. Or the liquor store. Or the funny farm. It is 11pm and a rig drives into the driveway and stays for a bit. I know this because I cannot sleep. Not one wink. Who is out there? My husband is passed out. Should I go and open the front door and then open a large can of Whoop, cause I have one that is already shook way up. Oh, they left. Still awake when husband leaves at 3am.
6- Day 2 (Tuesday) Hired man comes just before 11am (and hired woman doesn’t show at all) to finish downstairs bathroom, hook loft railing together, install mini-blinds, grout kitchen counter, seal grout, put on outlet covers, attach dishwasher to cupboard so it doesn’t tip over when I open it, finish painting, install hardware for upstairs closet curtain, caulk upstairs bathroom, remove owner’s tools and scrap wood from back porch, remove owner’s miscellaneous and assorted personal belongings from premises, wire in 2 baseboard heaters, attach 2 other heaters to wall, and some other odds-n-ends. Hello. Sanity. Where. Are. You?
7-Day 2 of hired work’s actual work included: two trips to town (1/2 hour each way) and several missed phone calls to owner (who was en route to Tennessee, barely, because that was him at 11pm in the drive, next to the creek, looking for the suitcase with his airline tickets, money, and assorted important papers). My lovely dogs are crazy with barking and raised ridge hair because strange man is wandering & wondering about in the back area of house. Husband gets home. Gets an earful. And then some more. No, he didn’t see my sanity running amuck or floating downstream either. Oh yes, hired man fixed one thing in the bathroom, but broke another. Lovely.
8-Day 3 (Wednesday). Oh yes, it goes on. Perhaps I should break this into smaller bite-sized morsels. Oh, but why? Met the hired man at the door. Firmly asked him to not wander around. If he needs something, knock on the hall door. This is my home. This is my family. And you are making me crazy—didn’t say that aloud. I think I kept it in my head. Anyway, father-in-law finally got here from down south 5 hours t partake in his share of the horse-trailer move. What was I thinking? This man has the gift to rile me into ruffled feathers on my legs and raised hairs on chest (didn’t you learn that saying from a grandpa when you were a kid—or was it only me?). Husband gets home from work and I mentally prepare for his next two days off that will include more hauling in the horse-trailer. And no, thankfully husband doesn’t say aloud what his eyeballs say as they scan the livingroom stacked high with boxes, What have you been doing all day? Why isn’t more of this put away somewhere, my lovely, half-crazed wife? Good thing, cuz I do (barely) remember the location of my half-shook can of Whoop.
And folks, that was only the first three daze, err days of our move. If you are with eager anticipation for the next installment(s) of Our Recent Move, you will just have to wait for the rest of the story. Hey there, could you please pass me the broom? There is a lot of hay on the floor and in the kitchen sink. Oh, that is a whole tellin’ on its very own. Hay in the kitchen sink? Indeed, she has lost more than her marbles.