, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Once again I am writing this blog post from a new, entirely un-written from location.  

My memories of moving last time are very traumatic.  I had lots of stress from various sources, including relationship stress, money stress, and finals stress.  Although I had almost everything packed ahead of time, it still felt rushed and frantic.  Looking back I can see how a lot of the trauma was self-inflicted/generated, but still – it wasn’t a fun time.  However, this time, even though I was only about half packed (and most of that half was packed by Johnsy), and not anywhere near the optimal level of organization, things felt much easier.  Some of this was due to me.  Even though I only slept for half an hour Friday night (between six and six thirty), I’ve learned to take things a lot easier.  A big part of the credit, however, goes to my amazing helpers.  Johnsy, Ani, and the Duchess helped pack up the rest of my stuff (mostly a lot of books), and an amazing crew of guys did the rest: Mr. Zoot, the Pessimist, Fedora, Uncle D, Boy-O, Orville, Mouse, and a few others I don’t have nicknames for yet lifted things, moved furniture, and performed miracles of transportation.  I am deeply in their debt.  I told them that once I get a little more settled in I’ll have to have them all over for dinner, because a pizza lunch doesn’t begin to cover what they deserve.

It’s been fun getting settled in.  Hopefully I’ll have some pictures for you on Wednesday.  The downstairs and the basement are still a sea of packed boxes, but little by little that’s changing as my things are finding homes and places to be.  My white curtains look crisp and lovely on the windows, and I’m beginning to scheme a way to run a bookshelf around the perimeter of the room above the windows.  Rosie and I have been talking over all sorts of plans for the house, and I’m looking forward to making them happen.

One of the fun things is that this morning Rosie and I discovered that the oven in the kitchen does work after all.  When Rosie moved in, she had been informed by the previous tenant that the oven didn’t work.  She (the previous tennant) said that one night the thing that held the pilot light up had fallen, and after that she wasn’t able to light it.  Rosie had taken her word for it, and dreading the cost of the repair bill, hadn’t made an attempt to get it fixed.  This morning I persuaded her to take a look at it just to try to see what the problem was, and when we discovered that it was physically impossible for the pilot light fixture to have fallen, decided to try lighting it and see what happened.  It lit beautifully the first time.  We now think that one of the rivets at the back of the oven had come off, making the heat distributor on the oven floor tilt slightly.  The previous tennant had gotten freaked out by this, and had never even tried to use her oven again.  We have decided that the previous tenant is a fruit – possibly a starfruit, but most likely a mango.  Or a papaya.  We’re not completely sure.

At the moment I am up in my little room, snuggled up in my chair wrapped in a muffler KJ knit, my thick black lace shawl, and with the comforter Aunt C gave me for Christmas on my lap.  Rosie has gone off to watch a movie with Indy, and Johnnycakes is at UD mourning the death of one of his friends.  The house is very quiet.  In a little while I’ll probably go downstairs and unpack a few more boxes.  Or I might not.  I’m still recovering somewhat from that 1/2 hour of sleep night.  In a few hours I’ll go over to UD myself for the Smackdown team practice.  It’s a good life.