The move went about as smoothly as a move can go. The movers showed up right on time, and it took them just over 4 hours to get everything moved from Madison to Crooked Acres. The washer and dryer fit in the space just fine (we measured twice and knew that they’d fit (a tight fit), but were worried all the same) and the freezer and refrigerator fit in the laundry room okay. It’s a little crowded in there now, but everything fits, and who needs a roomy laundry room anyway, right?

It was actually, weather-wise, a good day for moving. It cooled down a little and was overcast all day Friday, so the movers didn’t get overheated and neither did we (though I think that sitting on my butt on the couch making sure Mister Boogers didn’t go running out the door is probably not something that would get me all that overheated). We spent most of Friday getting the important stuff set up – Fred’s computer, the router (HELLO INTERNET I LOVE YOU), the TV and DVD player.

Saturday morning Fred got up bright and early and went out to let the hens out, which I am sure made him happy all the livelong day, because he adores bonding with his ladies.

I finally rolled out of bed around 8 to find that he’d been to the grocery store and back, and was about to head out to the garden to do some serious cultivating with the cultivator
(which he bought at Lowe’s last week and which he says has already more than paid for itself – it took him less time to do the entire garden with the cultivator than it took him to do two rows by hand). I did a lot of putting stuff away and checking my email (I LUVS THE INTERNET) and mindless surfing and cleaning, and then I ran to the old house to check on it and check the mail, then ran to the post office and came home, and he was still working hard.

The entire morning, we watched the road impatiently, because DirectTV was scheduled to show up between 8 and 1, and we knew they’d never ever show up at 8, because they just don’t DO that, showing up at the earliest possible time, it is just SILLY to expect such a thing, and then 1:00 rolled around, and they still hadn’t shown up. Fred called the 1-800 number and they searched their system and finally told him that we weren’t scheduled at all.

I think you can imagine our happiness.

Now we get to cool our heels and wait for someone at DirectTV to get back to us/

(Er, nevermind. In the time since I wrote that, Fred called to let me know that the DirectTV guy is on his way. So we’ll have TV today, god willing and the creek don’t rise.)

At least we thought to rent movies Friday evening, so we’ve had something to watch.

Sunday was an awesome day. Not only did I sleep really well Saturday night (probably because I stayed up late, ’til after midnight, watching TV and reading), but I woke up feeling completely rested, and then even though I kept busy most of the day, it didn’t go by too quickly for me, which is something I always love in a weekend day.

For a few hours in the morning, Fred got the surround sound speaker wires run under the house (there are apparently many cave crickets living under the house, which is probably why I find a leg or two almost every single morning) and the speakers hung, then he went out and worked on the steps to the computer room for several hours, and I puttered around the house doing Very Important Things like flip through US Magazine (Katie Holmes is wasting her youth on The Crazy, poor dear), laundry (how did I survive in this house for five weeks without a washer and dryer, I ask you?!), made some zucchini bread, ran the recyclables to the recycling center.

You know. STUFF.

Fred finished the steps and then mentioned that it was still kind of early (mid-afternoon) and he had no new projects to start (next project: new clothesline, but would you believe we’re having a hard time finding clothesline t posts? Lowe’s doesn’t have ’em and neither does Tractor Supply. We’re going to try another couple of places, but it appears that people tend not to hang their clothes out these days, due to lack of time. If nothing else, we’ll order them online.), so I suggested that we go to the flea market and…

Oh, nevermind. YOU’LL JUDGE ME. I don’t want to tell you.

Okay, I do. Because we got a bargain.

We bought rugs for the house. At the flea market. SHUT UP. Except for the cheap $20 faux-berber rug we got for the kitchen, which is already falling apart, we got a good deal on some decent rugs, and I like the way they look.

Also, most importantly, the cats like ’em, too.

I like all the rugs, but I ADORE the one we got for the dining room. (And am not crazy about the $20 faux-berber kitchen rug. What did I expect for $20, I gotta wonder.)

* * *

My sister took the best picture EVER of her cat Tigger, and then she sent it to me, and when I opened it, I laughed my butt off. She calls it “What Tigger will look like when he’s old and blind.”

As you can see, the love for orange kitties runs in the family.

* * *

“Ah hets Nicholas Sparks. That sappy crap he writes mekks me so angry I gots to bite the Tommy on his neck. I hets Tommy. Stupid happy little porky cat. Who he think he is, all happy and purring and praising the lawd? Stupid Tommy. Het him.”

(Edited to add: Those are NOT MY NICHOLAS SPARKS BOOKS. They were in the spud’s bedroom; she borrowed them from her grandmother. I’m not a Nicholas Sparks fan. Repeat: NOT MY NICHOLAS SPARKS BOOKS.)


2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.

Comments are closed.