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Tuesday already?
Sep. 3rd, 2002 10:19 amAh, moving. From about knee to ankle, I look like a domestic abuse victim. Married to a midget. I've got this really colorful bruise on my right ankle - two inches in diameter and just shading from off-green and purple into sickly-yellow. The rest are just fingerprint sized discolorations up and down my legs, from running into box corners every time I turn around.
Saturday, we cleaned. Top to bottom, scrubbing the bathrooms and the kitchen and getting every last bit of crap out of the old house. We contemplated wiring up the new house - stringing the Cat5, but Radio Shack closed before I could get my hands on the crimper.
Sunday, I headed over early to toss the trash off the back porch and wait for Chuckles to do the inspection. He nit-picked and pointed out that we hadn't dusted the baseboards, and complained about the side yard that we never weeded. (I didn't quite get the chance to point out the gutters that needed weeding for the last year...)
Grr. Talk about honing your rage and hatred. Grr.
It's exhausting, though. After I hit Storables and Office Depot (where I succumbed to a gel pen and an UPS), I went home and napped - hard enough that Lori and Ali couldn't even wake me for dinner.
Then I stayed up late reading romance novels from the five (or is it six) boxes I'm getting rid of soon. It's one last fling before we part ways - one last snicker before I return wholeheartedly to slash. Hee.
Yesterday I got all my fiction out. Put the shelves up, unpacked twenty boxes and wow, does that make a difference. There's still a ton of boxes everywhere else, plus all the non-fiction floating around, but a set of shelves is up and full.
Then I called Mom and Dad and asked for more shelves to put under the staircase. I have no idea what will happen when they're not by an Organized Living (where I get my modular shelves), and I need shelves again in the future. Road trip or something, I don't know.
Dru's in Yaounde. 96 days to go.
Saturday, we cleaned. Top to bottom, scrubbing the bathrooms and the kitchen and getting every last bit of crap out of the old house. We contemplated wiring up the new house - stringing the Cat5, but Radio Shack closed before I could get my hands on the crimper.
Sunday, I headed over early to toss the trash off the back porch and wait for Chuckles to do the inspection. He nit-picked and pointed out that we hadn't dusted the baseboards, and complained about the side yard that we never weeded. (I didn't quite get the chance to point out the gutters that needed weeding for the last year...)
Grr. Talk about honing your rage and hatred. Grr.
It's exhausting, though. After I hit Storables and Office Depot (where I succumbed to a gel pen and an UPS), I went home and napped - hard enough that Lori and Ali couldn't even wake me for dinner.
Then I stayed up late reading romance novels from the five (or is it six) boxes I'm getting rid of soon. It's one last fling before we part ways - one last snicker before I return wholeheartedly to slash. Hee.
Yesterday I got all my fiction out. Put the shelves up, unpacked twenty boxes and wow, does that make a difference. There's still a ton of boxes everywhere else, plus all the non-fiction floating around, but a set of shelves is up and full.
Then I called Mom and Dad and asked for more shelves to put under the staircase. I have no idea what will happen when they're not by an Organized Living (where I get my modular shelves), and I need shelves again in the future. Road trip or something, I don't know.
Dru's in Yaounde. 96 days to go.
