Well, we're in our new house. We survived! i think. As long as no boxes fall on to our heads, we'll probably be okay.
We were in our old house for almost two weeks after the movers had packed everything up. In that time, I was at the laundromat three different times...I don't know how my mom and grandma used to go to the laundromat every single week. I remember them doing it when I was small (which makes me wonder even more how mom did it with a small child along) but actually doing it made me realize how much work it is. Lugging the laundry, dirty and clean, having to wait at the laundromat for the clothes to wash and dry...I did have an interesting conversation there. The woman who was working there, who probably had a 'proud to be a redneck' sticker on the back of her car, and went out every hour for a cigarette break, had a book behind the counter. I asked her if it was hers, really because I hoped I could read it while I was waiting. But it DID belong to her. She was reading "The Screwtape Letters", by C.S. Lewis. And because she was, I could identify with her. She liked other books by C.S. Lewis, although she didn't know that he had written "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe." She had a dog that chewed up her books, and she was busy all the time, but she made time to read books that made her think. Now I wish that I could talk with her more, about things that maybe we both had read.
Big J flew into Indianapolis late last Friday, so that he could help us move. Think about it, we were moving three kids, two cats, and a very large dog (plus several houseplants) so we needed at least two vehicles to put them all in. Little Sister can't drive yet, so thank goodness Big J could help. Saturday morning we were packing everybody and everything up, and we were almost to the point of saying, there's not enough room, the cats still need to go in the cars, we'll have to leave something behind. (I was about to cry, because the most sensible things to leave would be my houseplants, and I am very emotionally attached to them.) Big J's brilliance saved us, and everything eventually fitted together, and off we went! He let me lead, with the Garmin GPS in my Aztek.
We stopped overnight near Aunt R's and Uncle D's, and was able to let the doggie and the kiddos out to play on their lawn. It was a nice evening to be ouside.
We were staying at a local motel, and had a second-floor room. It was nice enough for a cheap hotel (except for the hole in the wall, and the plaster on the ceiling that was just-about-ready to fall off), but the only way up was by a set of metal stairs. The kind of metal, clangy, noisy stairs that have empty space between one tread and the next, and open bars on the railing that let you look all the way down to the ground. For some reason, my big dog Gallant decided, on Sunday morning, that he was afraid of those stairs. Okay, that's not fair. If I had four legs, and was maybe a bit achy in all four, I might be afraid of those stairs too. For whatever reason, it was 6:30 in the morning, and Gallant was terrified of going down those stairs.
The hotel was, let's say, less-than-helpful, and the police department and animal control as well. How do you get a 120lb dog down stairs, when he refuses to move? Did I mention that Big J hurt his back and isn't supposed to do any heavy lifting? And it's impossible to find a veterinarian on a Sunday morning, much less find one that's willing to make house calls (there's a definite niche there for a young vet who wants to make some extra money). Eventually, after bribes, examples, pretending to leave without him, after three hours Little Sister persuaded him down the stairs. She says it just took much patience, and he finally was tired of having to lay down next to the stairs. For whatever reason, he did eventually get down those stairs and into the car. And we were out of there, three hours late, but with enough time to get Big J to our new house, and then to the airport.
Tuesday, the movers came with the big truck and all of our boxes. They put the furniture back together, and departed, leaving us with boxes stacked and towering over our heads (I'm not really afraid that the boxes will fall on us, well, not unless the little kids try to climb on the box-towers.) We've been sporadically emptying boxes, with the most important things first. Little kid toys, the TV and XBox games, and the big computer were all unpacked on Tuesday. Yesterday we unpacked almost all of the kitchen boxes, and we've unpacked some of the bedroom stuff. None of the book boxes have been opened, which says something about where my priorities lie (I must purge my book collection before we move again. How many books are there that I can't live without?)
The little kids love the swingset in our back yard (Little G will point out the window when she wants to go swing), and Gallant is getting used to having enough space to run around in. We've visited the library and registered for library cards. I hooked up the washing machine yesterday, and today I changed out the power cord on the clothes dryer so we could use it (how hard is it to hook up a clothes line?).
I really love this house.
But I'm going to wait on unpacking books until Big J is here again :}
