- Moving sucks
- It is possible to go from heartbreak to ecstatic relief in just three words
- Cats learn to whine when the temperature inside the house reaches 98 degrees
- Moving sucks
- Especially when it's wicked hot
- A hot tub is a wonderful thing
- Moving sucks so hard that next time we're hiring someone to do it for us
- A kitty who feels ignored will try to push the laptop computer off your lap in order to make room for himself
- He will not be reprimanded, because moving sucks for cats, too, and he deserves a lap
- I need new feet, and a new back
- Our landlady is very nice...she not only made sure the a/c got fixed, but she also inquired about the kitties and whether or not we'd figure out a way for them to reach the highest wall cut-out places, and does not mind if odd looking ledges are bolted to the wall to get the kitties up as high as they want to be
- An unheated pool is very cold, even when it's very hot out, but the hot tub makes up for that
- And moving sucks.
Thursday
Thumper's Lessons Learned This Week...
Monday
Saturday
The One With Snot Running Down My Face And I Don't Care Who Sees...
Waiting ceased at 9 p.m. last night when the home owner knocked on our door; she had the keys and was ready to walk through the house with us. By 9:30 we were moving garage things, reveling in the nifty space off to one wise where two motorcycles fit nicely, along with other major garage type items. We moved stuff for an hour, happy with what we managed to get over there.
At 9 this morning we took the kitties over there and let them explore for a bit, which was mostly Max exploring while Buddah hid in a closet. After awhile we shut them in a room upstairs with food and water, a bed, Max's plastic tomb, and a cat tree so they'd be able to look out the window.
And then moving commenced. We opened the garage door to make it easier, and we began hauling...my desk, boxes and boxes of books, whatever we could grab. At 9:45 the Spouse Thingy and I were putting some odd things in the new living room, when we heard Max meow, and I laughed, thinking the sound was coming through the air vent and he didn't sound too unhappy.
But then Max poked his head out of the downstairs closet.
We'd locked them in a room upstairs.
The panic began.
Buddah was no where to be found. We checked every room, more than once. Every closet, even in closed cabinets, because he does sometimes pry them open. He wasn't in a closet, he wasn't in Max's plastic tomb...he was just gone.
I lost it. The thought of what could happen to Buddah outside hit me with the pain of a fresh wound rubbed raw with salt. He has never been outside off a leash, he's skittish around people but very curious to explore, and it was going to get very hot. As we walked the neighborhood looking for him and calling to him, I kept thinking of a little black kitty out in that baking heat. And I noticed just how many cars there were, how fast they were going. He would have no idea of knowing how to react around them, and he would have no idea how to get home. I searched, crying, knowing the neighbors were seeing this woman walking around looking like crap, with tears and snot running down her face, but I didn't care. I just wanted to find him before something bad happened.
We looked as long as seemed sane, and everywhere we could. I went back into the house several times to look again, just in case. I went back to the old house and looked in there, hoping he'd just been so scared that he scrambled from the new place back to the old. The Boy got in his car to search in a wider range. The Spouse Thingy talked to neighbors.
When it seemed fruitless, when we had no idea where to keep looking, where he might be hiding or playing, I went inside and made up fliers to put on the community mailboxes, and we brought Max back to the old house where he could stay in a familiar room, one with a door we knew would stay closed. And we got back to moving, somberly, sadly. I couldn't stop crying, but we moved what we could.
After he'd been missing for three hours, I plopped down on the front lawn in the shade to take a break, but I scanned up and down the street, hoping for movement. I kept wishing someone would run up with the news they'd found a black kitty. I kept thinking I'd pay just about anything if someone would find him and he was safe.
The Spouse Thingy kept moving things; the alternative was static worrying, and things needed be be moved anyway.
I sat there under the tree for at least ten minutes, long enough to feel guilt that I wasn't doing anything layered over the pain of being fairly sure I'd never see Buddah again.
Then the Spouse Thingy yelled I found him!!! from the upstairs window next door. I got my fat ass off the ground and went running into the house; he was at the top of the stairs holding a very confused little black kitty--Buddah had never left the house. He'd never even left the room. He was there while we searched for him, there while we went room to room calling his name. He simply chose to not answer.
He was hiding under Max's plastic tomb.
Both cats are back at the old house, where they will stay until there's no other option but to take them over. Buddah will probably find a place to hide, because he is fearful of change, but at least we'll make sure there's no way for him to get out of the house.
So...we got the keys, we're moving, we had major panic and tears, but it's much better now...
Waiting ceased at 9 p.m. last night when the home owner knocked on our door; she had the keys and was ready to walk through the house with us. By 9:30 we were moving garage things, reveling in the nifty space off to one wise where two motorcycles fit nicely, along with other major garage type items. We moved stuff for an hour, happy with what we managed to get over there.
At 9 this morning we took the kitties over there and let them explore for a bit, which was mostly Max exploring while Buddah hid in a closet. After awhile we shut them in a room upstairs with food and water, a bed, Max's plastic tomb, and a cat tree so they'd be able to look out the window.And then moving commenced. We opened the garage door to make it easier, and we began hauling...my desk, boxes and boxes of books, whatever we could grab. At 9:45 the Spouse Thingy and I were putting some odd things in the new living room, when we heard Max meow, and I laughed, thinking the sound was coming through the air vent and he didn't sound too unhappy.
But then Max poked his head out of the downstairs closet.
We'd locked them in a room upstairs.
The panic began.
Buddah was no where to be found. We checked every room, more than once. Every closet, even in closed cabinets, because he does sometimes pry them open. He wasn't in a closet, he wasn't in Max's plastic tomb...he was just gone.
I lost it. The thought of what could happen to Buddah outside hit me with the pain of a fresh wound rubbed raw with salt. He has never been outside off a leash, he's skittish around people but very curious to explore, and it was going to get very hot. As we walked the neighborhood looking for him and calling to him, I kept thinking of a little black kitty out in that baking heat. And I noticed just how many cars there were, how fast they were going. He would have no idea of knowing how to react around them, and he would have no idea how to get home. I searched, crying, knowing the neighbors were seeing this woman walking around looking like crap, with tears and snot running down her face, but I didn't care. I just wanted to find him before something bad happened.
We looked as long as seemed sane, and everywhere we could. I went back into the house several times to look again, just in case. I went back to the old house and looked in there, hoping he'd just been so scared that he scrambled from the new place back to the old. The Boy got in his car to search in a wider range. The Spouse Thingy talked to neighbors.
When it seemed fruitless, when we had no idea where to keep looking, where he might be hiding or playing, I went inside and made up fliers to put on the community mailboxes, and we brought Max back to the old house where he could stay in a familiar room, one with a door we knew would stay closed. And we got back to moving, somberly, sadly. I couldn't stop crying, but we moved what we could.
After he'd been missing for three hours, I plopped down on the front lawn in the shade to take a break, but I scanned up and down the street, hoping for movement. I kept wishing someone would run up with the news they'd found a black kitty. I kept thinking I'd pay just about anything if someone would find him and he was safe.
The Spouse Thingy kept moving things; the alternative was static worrying, and things needed be be moved anyway.
I sat there under the tree for at least ten minutes, long enough to feel guilt that I wasn't doing anything layered over the pain of being fairly sure I'd never see Buddah again.
Then the Spouse Thingy yelled I found him!!! from the upstairs window next door. I got my fat ass off the ground and went running into the house; he was at the top of the stairs holding a very confused little black kitty--Buddah had never left the house. He'd never even left the room. He was there while we searched for him, there while we went room to room calling his name. He simply chose to not answer.
He was hiding under Max's plastic tomb.
Both cats are back at the old house, where they will stay until there's no other option but to take them over. Buddah will probably find a place to hide, because he is fearful of change, but at least we'll make sure there's no way for him to get out of the house.
So...we got the keys, we're moving, we had major panic and tears, but it's much better now...
Friday
Tuesday
Well now...instead of taking several days to move all their stuff out of the house as originally intended, the People Next Door rented a truck to get it all out tomorrow. They didn't have to, but they were worried about us not getting enough time to move. Tell ya what, they have been a class act all the way through, and it's too bad we won't have them for neighbors for a long time. They're the nicest people we've met since we moved back here.
Monday
Surfing around on various motorcycle forums, I often see people touting the line that Loud Pipes Save Lives. The idea being, I suppose, that the louder they are, the better chance people in cars will hear you coming. Without getting into the physics or sound engineering or whatever of that, let me just say that Loud Pipes Piss Off The Neighbors.
Seriously, if your bike is setting off car alarms up and down the street, your pipes are too loud. It's bad enough at three in the afternoon. Three in the morning...dude, you're asking for a smackdown. Your neighbors won't lay a hand on you; they're liable to beat the crap out of your bike with baseball bats and tire irons.
:::stares out the window:::
Such a pretty bike, too...
Seriously, if your bike is setting off car alarms up and down the street, your pipes are too loud. It's bad enough at three in the afternoon. Three in the morning...dude, you're asking for a smackdown. Your neighbors won't lay a hand on you; they're liable to beat the crap out of your bike with baseball bats and tire irons.
:::stares out the window:::
Such a pretty bike, too...
Sunday
I happened upon a garage sale this afternoon, which isn't unusual to find on a Sunday; this one, however, was being held in the Walmart parking lot, one neat little corner of asphalt covered with piles of clothing, books, toys, and odd assorted glassware. I presume that I missed all the good stuff, as the good stuff tends to vanish from the typical garage sale by noon, but it was still worth wandering around.
This wasn't your typical garage sale. Walmart donated the space, the tables upon which items for sale were displayed, a dining fly to provide shade for those manning the sale, and food for them to sell (gone by the time I got there, and I could have used a cold drink at this point.) Yep, the Evilness of Retail ponied up the goods that allowed a neighborhood full of people to host a sale of donated goods.
All those people stood in the hot sun--except for the lucky ones who only sweated under the dining fly--to raise money for 10 year old Ashley Sullivan, who is in a bed at Children's Hospital and Research Center in Oakland, where she's undergoing treatment for a rare type of brain tumor. She's facing surgery to place a shunt in her brain, 53 weeks of chemo, and only has a 70% chance of survival.
I picked through the toys and clothes, looking for books, and found a few I might pick up and read someday. As I paid for them I had the blip of a thought speed through my head that if I still lived near all the Evil People, I could pick through the toys as well, looking for the noisiest ones, to gift the children of the neighborhood with. Oh, there were lots of kids' books for sale, too, but there's a certain joy in giving loud toys to other people's children.
I need to make friends in this neighborhood. Surely someone has small children in need of noisy things.
And +1 to Walmart. Perhaps they're not as Evil as everyone makes them out to be...
This wasn't your typical garage sale. Walmart donated the space, the tables upon which items for sale were displayed, a dining fly to provide shade for those manning the sale, and food for them to sell (gone by the time I got there, and I could have used a cold drink at this point.) Yep, the Evilness of Retail ponied up the goods that allowed a neighborhood full of people to host a sale of donated goods.
All those people stood in the hot sun--except for the lucky ones who only sweated under the dining fly--to raise money for 10 year old Ashley Sullivan, who is in a bed at Children's Hospital and Research Center in Oakland, where she's undergoing treatment for a rare type of brain tumor. She's facing surgery to place a shunt in her brain, 53 weeks of chemo, and only has a 70% chance of survival.
I picked through the toys and clothes, looking for books, and found a few I might pick up and read someday. As I paid for them I had the blip of a thought speed through my head that if I still lived near all the Evil People, I could pick through the toys as well, looking for the noisiest ones, to gift the children of the neighborhood with. Oh, there were lots of kids' books for sale, too, but there's a certain joy in giving loud toys to other people's children.
I need to make friends in this neighborhood. Surely someone has small children in need of noisy things.
And +1 to Walmart. Perhaps they're not as Evil as everyone makes them out to be...
Saturday
See now, panicking helps*. While we were busy getting all OHMYGODWHATDOWEDO the neighbors reamed their lender, got their paperwork, and they close on their new house on Tuesday. So we may wind up getting into the house 2-3 days later than expected, but if we have a good 4 days, we can get everything moved and this house cleaned in time.
We would have preferred an entire week, but we'll take what we can get...
*OK, no it doesn't, but it makes me feel better to cough up an excuse for being a whiny little wussy...
We would have preferred an entire week, but we'll take what we can get...
*OK, no it doesn't, but it makes me feel better to cough up an excuse for being a whiny little wussy...
Friday
The people currently living in the house next door, the house we have signed a lease on, were supposed to close on their new house yesterday.
Their lender, who shall remain nameless =b of a= couldn't handle the overwhelming task of making a follow-up call to verify employment, hence the closing has not yet happened. So who knows when they're going to close. Which means who knows when they'll actually be able to vacate the property?
Don't ask me what the hell we'll do. We have to be out of this house by the 31st. We could get all Move Out Because We Have A Lease and point legal fingers, but then we'd have to deal with a potentially pissed of landlord for 2 years. Not to mention it takes about 90 days to invoke tenancy laws, and we're still out of this house in two weeks.
This is not the fault of the people next door; they're scrambling to get the closing done, including turning to the builder for a potential new lender. It's not the fault of the lady who owns the house. It's not our fault. Yet we're the ones who could potentially get screwed if this goes to the last minute.
:::bangs head on desk:::
Their lender, who shall remain nameless =b of a= couldn't handle the overwhelming task of making a follow-up call to verify employment, hence the closing has not yet happened. So who knows when they're going to close. Which means who knows when they'll actually be able to vacate the property?
Don't ask me what the hell we'll do. We have to be out of this house by the 31st. We could get all Move Out Because We Have A Lease and point legal fingers, but then we'd have to deal with a potentially pissed of landlord for 2 years. Not to mention it takes about 90 days to invoke tenancy laws, and we're still out of this house in two weeks.
This is not the fault of the people next door; they're scrambling to get the closing done, including turning to the builder for a potential new lender. It's not the fault of the lady who owns the house. It's not our fault. Yet we're the ones who could potentially get screwed if this goes to the last minute.
:::bangs head on desk:::
Thursday
Tuesday
But it's only a flesh wound...!
Somehow, I think if I severed a leg while riding, I'd notice it pretty darned quick...
Somehow, I think if I severed a leg while riding, I'd notice it pretty darned quick...
Sunday
Stupid Things I Heard Today...(and what went through my brain...)
- I can't be friends with her. She's nice but she's too fat. I get creeped out just looking at her. (Well, aren't you the sweetest thing...?)
- Mixing diet Coke with regular Coke causes a chemical reaction that can make your stomach split open. (Better living through science?)
- He's six years old. He can be home alone for a few hours. (Long enough for someone to call CPS?)
- I don't know why he's trying so hard, he's just not smart enough even for a community college. (Gunning for Parent Of The Year, aren't you?)
- A Mormon for President? I hate Mormons. They worship Joseph Smith. (No, they do not. He was the founder and first president of the LDS church, and that's it.)
- If it were my kid, I'd beat the gay out of him. (If it were your kid, he'd never tell you, he'd leave home as soon as he could, and you'd probably never see him again.)
Saturday
Thursday
My legs hurt, my wrists hurt, my neck and shoulders hurt, and my butt REALLY hurts.
Playing with my new toy is a lot more physical than the little Rebel I've played with for the last year (no, not for sale, the Boy is buying it from me; yes I would like to get pictures of his 6'2" self on that little bike but I'm not sure he'd allow it...) I woke up today feeling like I'd had a hard workout yesterday (which is a good thing) and if I sit on anything other than a soft chair, I want to squeal ouchie.
My new toy is an incentive to be very considerate of where we put stuff in the next house, so that the Bowflex is more accessible, and it will make me get in the pool and work out just about every day until it gets too cold to swim.
I big pink puffy heart my new toy, even though I ache...
:::wanders off to find a heating pad to sit on:::
Playing with my new toy is a lot more physical than the little Rebel I've played with for the last year (no, not for sale, the Boy is buying it from me; yes I would like to get pictures of his 6'2" self on that little bike but I'm not sure he'd allow it...) I woke up today feeling like I'd had a hard workout yesterday (which is a good thing) and if I sit on anything other than a soft chair, I want to squeal ouchie.
My new toy is an incentive to be very considerate of where we put stuff in the next house, so that the Bowflex is more accessible, and it will make me get in the pool and work out just about every day until it gets too cold to swim.
I big pink puffy heart my new toy, even though I ache...
:::wanders off to find a heating pad to sit on:::
Tuesday
Monday
=blink=
I was up until 2 a.m. this morning, reading. The odd thing is, I was reading my own stuff*
The sad thing... I had to keep reading because I didn't remember what would happen next.
I'm halfway through. I hope it has a happy ending...
=blink=
*(I'm having a little trouble figuring out how I used to weave things together, and hoped taking a few steps back would help; I'm most happy with FFR so that's the one I grabbed.)
I was up until 2 a.m. this morning, reading. The odd thing is, I was reading my own stuff*
The sad thing... I had to keep reading because I didn't remember what would happen next.
I'm halfway through. I hope it has a happy ending...
=blink=
*(I'm having a little trouble figuring out how I used to weave things together, and hoped taking a few steps back would help; I'm most happy with FFR so that's the one I grabbed.)
Sunday
You know, a baby that has just discovered that the voice he keeps hearing is actually coming from himself is awfully cute...for the first five minutes. Forty five minutes of an infant's imitation of a dental drill, not so cute. Trying to concentrate past that sound, just about impossible. I think today's pretentions of writing will be done at Border's instead of the library, where noisy people seem to bother me less.
Saturday
Thursday
Yay!
We get to move into the house next door.
The house with the pool and hot tub.
With pool service and lawn service.
And paid garbage.
And that's $200/month less rent than what we're paying now.
We don't get the keys until the 24th so we'll only have about a week to move everything and get this place cleaned up (which really shouldn't take long; for once I've kept the science projects on the bathroom walls and kitchen floor to a reasonable level) before the final inspection. And...and...and...Owner Lady gave us a 2 year lease, so we won't have this problem again in a year. She'll let us out of the lease if we're ready to buy a house, but she gave us 2 years of knowing we can stay put.
That's a big relief, actually. Two years of not worrying, and knowing the rent won't skyrocket. Yay.
We get to move into the house next door.
The house with the pool and hot tub.
With pool service and lawn service.
And paid garbage.
And that's $200/month less rent than what we're paying now.
We don't get the keys until the 24th so we'll only have about a week to move everything and get this place cleaned up (which really shouldn't take long; for once I've kept the science projects on the bathroom walls and kitchen floor to a reasonable level) before the final inspection. And...and...and...Owner Lady gave us a 2 year lease, so we won't have this problem again in a year. She'll let us out of the lease if we're ready to buy a house, but she gave us 2 years of knowing we can stay put.
That's a big relief, actually. Two years of not worrying, and knowing the rent won't skyrocket. Yay.
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