I don't want to complain. In fact, I won't. Compared to so many others, I have quite an exceptional life and I'm grateful for it. However... (strategic pause)... there are times that in the words of the late, great Marvin Gaye "make me wanna holler, throw up both my hands."
BougieMom and I are moving this week. She to a swanky "luxury senior apartment" and me to regular apartment up the road. I'm over the house of it all. And it's truly time for me to go back to living single for a while. Me, myself and I. Amen.
For those of you who have accumulated "stuff" over the years and faced a move, you know it's quite the process. In the course of the last six weeks, we have donated and given away furniture, clothes, books, shoes, kitchen items - half the house. And the packing has been exactly what packing is - a major pain in the hindparts.
Over the past twelve years since my father passed away, we are regularly startled with the realization of just how very much he pampered my mother and how much of the household he truly ran while she concentrated on the kids. For one thing, he bought the furniture and decorated the house. She didn't feel she had a knack for it and he had impeccable taste. Secondly, she never held a hammer or a screwdriver once in her life. She went from her mother's house to the sorority house to my dad's house. Thirdly (and most relevant to this story), she did none of the packing. Ever. Not a suitcase nor nary a box. She is quite awesome at pointing at things and saying,"That needs to be packed." Not that I'm complaining, but I am whining a little.
Next, three weeks ago we found out that they are expanding our subdivision by waking to the sound of earth movers at 6:32am one fine morning. Just so happens, the expansion will take place directly to the left our my bedroom windows. Every morning from 6:32am to every evening round 7:00pm. Not that I'm complaining, I'm just whining a little.
Okay then, we (and by we, I mean I) packed up most of the kitchen last week. So by Thursday, it was either takeout or starvation. Around 2:00pm I headed out in Amy (my car) to grab spinach lasagna and antipasto salad. Up the street, into the place, I pay, grab the food, back in the car. Turn the key - nothing. Try again and now the key won't turn. Arrgh! I assume the battery on my fancy key is dead and I hoof it across the burning hot 102 degree pavement to CVS to by two new batteries. And nothing. I dig in my purse for my cell phone to call someone to come scoop me up - no cell phone. I
I walk inside, borrow the phone, get BougieMom to come get me and we ride over to Firestone. I asked them to fetch Amy and find out why she's dead. One day and $178 later - it's the key. I go to Mercedes and order a new one (to the tune of $275) and am told that they have to order it and I have to have the car on property to get it. Thankfully, Mercedes tows free to the dealership (otherwise, we'd have had a minor meltdown). I'm supposed to go scoop it up later today. I'm not complaining, just whining a little bit.
We hired a painter to do three accent walls in Mom's new place. He said (even if we bought the paint) that it would cost $812. For three walls? This is how I found myself over the weekend with BougieYounger Bro wielding a roller and painter tape. BougieNephews thought it was fun to step on the dropcloth and then onto the carpet. That is how I found myself on my hands and knees with carpet cleaner. I'm not complaining, just whining a little bit.
I'm supposed to be off work this week. But my manager's daughter has a softball tournament in Idaho which apparently trumps me schlepping boxes all over creation. And since it's only the two of us assigned to this $50,000/month account, I'm multitasking.
And now we're on the count. BougieMom moves tomorrow. I move Thursday and somewhere in between the madness my new book hits shelves tomorrow. As soon as I figure out how to do the radio interviews without the sounds of movers, nieces, tractors or me wailing... I'm golden.
I'm not complaining, just whining a little bit. Ya'll have a good week. I'll be around. Back to our regularly scheduled bouge soon.
p.s. Send prayer. Lots and lots of prayer.