By the Power of Black & Decker!
I have a great view of the sunrise from the room that some how, some way, will turn into an office today. As I sat there drinking my coffee and watching the sky turn colors, I took a deep breath and vowed to savor the moment so everything else that has gone horribly, horribly wrong will pale in comparison to being able to spend my mornings staring into the sun. Right. I won't bore you with the details. I'll just say what most of you already know and have been trying to tell me all along. Moving is hell. We started at 8am Saturday morning when we picked up the U-Haul. We finished getting the stuff out of the old place and into the new place last night at 9pm, which was marked with a finale that saw me take a nasty tumble on my last trip out of the old place. As I lay on the ground, rain falling on my face, my back and knee aching, I had the urge to laugh and laugh and laugh. Had I followed that urge, it would have been the sound of a loon's laugh, echoing through the neighborhood, causing little children to hide under their beds and fathers to grab their shotguns. So I let out a few curses instead. That was my final gift to the old neighborhood; a string of curse words that the kids on the block will be using to entertain at family gatherings for ages. My legacy to my former neighbors. Hey, I didn't miss blogging. Not at all. It might be because I was too busy to think about it. Painting, sanding, ripping, tearing, building, crying, cursing, carrying, navigating Home Depot. All those things probably kept me from even thinking about blogging. Though they didn't keep me from recording every single detail with the camera so I can give you a full historical recording of the move at some point. Before, during and after pictures, including the slow demise of my husband's sunny personality. Oh, and the pictures of DJ laying down the floor in Nat's room. Eleven years old and the kid can put down a tile floor like a pro. It's that anal-retentive gene at work. So, my personal boxscore: Three rooms painted, one floor finished, hardly anything unpacked. It's good to be here at work today, where I will sit in one place for hours and not lift a single thing. When I get home, the cable will have come and gone and I'll have my beloved connection back, I'll have television. And if all goes well, my husband and my father will have put a new floor down in the office and started work on the living room. I have become quite enamored of power tools. I hold one of those babies in my hand, switch on the power and suddenly I! Have! The Power! I stand in the yard, hands on hips in some Homeowner Superhero stance. I've got a power sander in one hand and a chainsaw in the other. I wear a superhero cape of black and orange, and I fight for truth, justice and Black & Decker. Give me some lumber! Bring me the nails! I will turn that shed into a small apartment for the kids! I will make the deck look like it belongs on a cruise ship! Tear down the walls! Sure, I am aching, broke and I don't know where anything I own is. But plugging in a power tool is like having the surge of a thousand amateur home repair mavens coursing through your body at once, all fighting to destroy the shoddy repair work that came before us. I shall conquer this home yet.