The move is on. So what could go wrong?

As I mentioned earlier, Hans got a job offer in Florida and we've been trying very hard to settle our affairs here up north before we jump into our two vehicles and head south in order to move our boat from the east coast of Florida to the west. God, it sounds so simple.

Hans has done a very good job of tying up the loose ends of our lives here, ie; the landlord, utilities, and making reservations for us at pet friendly hotels along the way, while I've been weeding through too much junk (who really uses the lotions pilfered from hotel rooms and why do we really need eleven chapstiks?), wearing a rut in the road to the Good Will, becoming great friends with a very sweet liquor store employee (who calls out, "Hey girl, how ya doing?" every time I slink in and ask for more boxes and only occasionally some alcohol), puzzling over why Hans still has a pair of black jeans with a waist band measurement he hasn't seen since the last century, and all the while sweating like a whore in church.

Damn, this has been a hot summer.

Things were moving along quite swimmingly until Hans came home Thursday morning after his very last hockey game here in our Big City, sporting a knee cap twice its normal size thanks to a run in with the boards. Keep in mind that Hans has a huge tolerance for pain and never complains. But when I asked if he needed an ibuprofen and he agreed that it wouldn't be a bad idea, my heart sunk as I knew I was now the only soldier remaining on the field.

He spent the day on the futon with an ice pack on his knee and a warm pitty at his side.


Sally Stitch didn't make the cut and was delivered to the Good Will. She had many chances to redeem herself but never quite followed through.

Now someone else will have to put up with her antics.



I'll miss her.











Here's Hans lying on the futon with his knee injury and a smile on his face.

BTW, that futon bought the farm last weekend during Baby Brother's stay and refuses to sit upright. It will now find itself on the street with our garbage next Tuesday morning.

One less thing to store.







Just a small amount of junk that's going into storage.























The ironing board also ended up at the Good Will. I'm not storing a ten dollar item.









The day after Hans injured his knee, I spent the day sorting, sweating, and packing. Then Wilbur woke me up at one AM with the pukes. He made it as far as the kitchen before he lost it but hey... it's only linoleum. When he woke me up at three AM with more puking I got him as far as the deck. After that he expressed an interest in some alone time and slept on the futon. However the next morning I found he'd had a serious tummy issue and tried to hide it in the corner of the living room (on the landlord's off white berber carpeting no less). It was diarrhea, and bloody diarrhea at that.

That's when my world stopped.

So in addition to my very expensive 'cut and color' at the salon, Wilbur got rushed to the vet clinic. Normally he loves the attention he gets at the vet's but he really wasn't prepared for things getting stuck up his butt, deep into his ears, and sharp sticks being poked into his flesh. After his second injection, indignation practically dripped off of him and with wild eyes, he forlornly oowoooed and ooowoooed his way around the examination room. When we left, with four prescriptions, he told his former favorite people that he just might not come back.

He then slept the whole way home and hasn't pooped since.

This was two days ago and while I normally like the aroma of chicken and rice, I don't care for it in the recycled form of dog farts.


A very sick pitty and I pray he poops before the day is out!

Today is Sunday, we finish packing on Monday, the movers show up on Tuesday, and we're on our way Wednesday.

I only hope Wilbur doesn't have an oops moment at any of the hotels we have reserved!

I'm serious!.

I love my new labels!!

Here they are.

My new labels, and I think they're too cute!


Somehow I stumbled upon Boody Babies over at Etsy and I liked the site. Anyway after I explained to her that I'm completely ignorant of all things to do with graphic design and very timidly asked her if she could come up with something, she did.

I wanted the words to look like they were made of rope, a kitty face in place of the letter O in Knotty, and some of the letters to look, well, knotted. This label has several meanings for me. I like cats and we have a catamaran boat. The ropey look represents all the different ropes (although they're referred to as sheets and halyards etc...) on a boat, and you can take the word knotty in any way you wish. I thought these could still serve me well if we actually end up on our boat and I'm actually able to sew while on it.

By the way, these labels were in the mail to me within a day and they were also very reasonable.

On Sunday I signed papers with my realtor so my house is now officially on the market. On Monday I emptied out medicine cabinets, cleared out everything from under the sinks, then swept out every drawer and cupboard, swept the garage and the whole downstairs, scrubbed toilets and mopped kitchen and bathroom floors. By the time I got to the Big City that night I was was stinking tired!But I had to drive back to my house today so I could put out the last of the garbage, and I need to empty out the refrigerator, and last but not least Chlorox, my timid kitty, needs to be picked up from Baby Girl's apartment and taken back to the Big City.

This should be fun.

That poor cat was taken to Baby Girl's apartment in the beginning of January and she spent her first month under the bed before she progressed to the closet. Only a couple of weeks ago did she venture forth long enough to go downstairs and smack the other resident cat in the face before she went back upstairs and crawled back under the bed. I had hoped that Baby Girl would forget that this was a temporary arrangement but my hopes were shattered last weekend when in the middle of her soccer banquet she leaned over and whispered in my ear, "When are you taking that damned cat back?"

Busted!!

Don't be fooled, tomorrow this will turn into a screaming banshee for the whole hour and a half trip back to the Big City.

My saga continues

I'm certainly no stranger to snow. For goodness sake I grew up in this Snowbelt and we often refer to it as living in the Tundra. But the snow that we've received this month is kicking my butt! The post office would not deliver my mail this week because my mailbox was unreachable. I've been shoveling since Monday and today during yet another marathon session I felt like I might succeed when I heard something that sent chills up my spine. It started out as a muted rumbling and then got louder and louder. Oh God no!! I almost wept. It was THE SNOWPLOW (or that thing of which nightmares are made) and as it worked it's way up my road, it churned up mountains of icy snow that it quickly deposited at the ends of nicely shoveled driveways, and in front of finally cleared mailboxes.


"You will not plow me in dammit!" I swore to myself, and clutching my dented, worn out shovel, I stood in front of my mailbox and dared him to even come close.


Mr. Plowman and I had a little staredown until he wisely (probably married and has received this same look from his wife at one time or another) veered into the middle of the road steering clear of me until he was way past me and then went on his merry way.


"Bastard" I muttered and continued to shovel.


One of the reasons I'm so pissed is because my mailbox was beheaded by a plow in December and had been hanging on by a thread even after Hans' and my attempt to keep it in place with huge tie wraps (or zip ties or whatever you want to call them) until it can be permanently fixed this spring.


Our feeble efforts lasted until today when my mailbox finally gave up the ghost and toppled into the snow!


An hour later along with two wire coat hangers, wire cutters, string, screw drivers, a hell of a lot of swearing, and completely frozen toes and fingers, I think I secured it (until the next snowplow that is!).



Then another plow came along and I was ready to give him the finger even though he was on the other side of the street. He rolled down his window and told me to get in my driveway.


Since he had the advantage of driving a huge weapon and I only had my trusty shovel, I obeyed.


Then he carefully plowed out the end of my driveway making two very close passes past my mailbox (very important here) without hitting it, and saving my poor back from breaking any further.



I'll throw out my voodoo plow truck later.

This seriously cut into my packing and moving time and after standing on a heating pad to thaw my feet I was ready to go again.

Oh yeah, I had to use a heating pad since I couldn't run hot water in my bathtub. Why? Because I just noticed that my tub has a leak and is leaving a lovely stain on my ceiling tiles in my family room downstairs!!!!!

I'm almost delirious with all the fun I'm having!

This is my mailbox after I tied it back on with string.





It was too wet for Duct tape!










It's difficult to see, but this is my driveway as seen from the road (and from inside the vehicle).

This is the last room that finally got painted. See the border up by the ceiling? I had to tape both the top and bottom because in addition to painting the walls I also painted the ceiling. I don't have a ladder so I used a chair and being all of 5 feet tall I had to stand on my toes to get the tape on the top part!

Not fun.

And I had this same situation in one other bedroom too.

And here again is the before picture. All of this stuff and more got packed up and brought to the Big City tonight.

Here is most of it packed and sitting in my kitchen. It was then carried down a flight of steps, loaded into the SUV, driven to the Big City, and hauled UP even more stairs to Hans' apartment!

This is only the first batch!!!!

And after today it may be the last.