The move, thankfully, is over, and as far as moving goes, it was relatively painless. The worst part was dealing with U-Haul, who unequivocally sucks. I get this call the day before moving day: “Good afternoon! The truck you reserved won’t be ready until 2 PM. Oh, and you’ll have to travel about 30 miles one way to pick it up. You don’t mind paying for the extra mileage, do you?” It never occurred to anyone at U-Haul to inform me there was no truck available in my entire town, or that most of the day would be over before I could pick up the one on the other side of the world? As soon as I can find my printer, I will so be writing a letter.
The truck was unloaded, and I was ready to start unpacking, around 9 PM. While the cats wandered around, investigating, I tackled a few boxes and started transforming the exploded-box-factory look into a recognizable home. As I passed by the bedroom later, I spotted Tweetie passed out on the bed, his paws tossed languidly above his head, blissed out on his favorite blanket, which I made sure was one of the first items unpacked. I had to smile. The cats’ sole role in the entire move was to not get stepped on as furniture was brought in, yet they made sure I knew I had stressed them out and worked them simply to death. Treats all around, and I was forgiven.
By last night, I was stretched out on the front porch swing, reading a book and enjoying my new home. I have told Gary so much about the house, and sent him pictures, so he can imagine where I am. I can’t wait until he is there with me, working in the yard with me, swinging on the porch with me, just here.
And someday, when the kids are finally allowed to love whoever they choose without being hurt for it, there is a big backyard for the kids, waiting for imaginary bear hunts, games of hide-and-seek, bubble blowing, races, and water gun battles.