Those may have been the words uttered from my lips to Hubby this evening as we tried to sort out the logistics of our impending move. The move, which I might add, STILL does not have a forwarding address. Although, according to the mail we receive on a daily basis, reminds us that very soon, we will no longer be living here - as evidenced by the stack of mail currently on the counter for the new owners.
We have found a place that we have decided we both can live in. One in which we, probably, won't maim, kill, or otherwise harm each other. But we are waiting to hear from the rentee (or is that rentor? Definitely the Lessor...maybe. What the hell do you want from me? Sure I may work in a legal department, but that doesn't mean I know what I'm talking about!).
With any luck, we are planning to move the weekend immediately following Thanksgiving. Giving ourselves a full week to finalize the last minute detritus and clean the house for the new owners. While also insuring that any so-called "helpers" (those that have sworn they would do whatever they could to help us move) are busy with family obligations.
And then there is the whole Thanksgiving Dinner debacle to contend with. Hubby mentioned something about..."surely, we can have a normal Thanksgiving here..." Which, understandably, freaked me out completely.
Because, no. We cannot.
Which lead me to declare that we will be having Thanksgiving at a local restaurant - pick your poison because I'm making reservations.
He finally acquiesced. And my only remaining road-block was Man-Child...the one for whom the word "tradition" was created. The very same one, after having exactly ONE scavenger hunt for a (large, impossible-to-wrap gift; as a TEENAGER) one Christmas wondered why we didn't have scavenger hunts for every Christmas thereafter...i.e., if you do it ONCE it's a TRADITION around here, apparently.
And when I informed him that Thanksgiving would take place at an impersonal restaurant - rather than in the chaos of our own home?
 |
| God, I LOVE that kid! |
And then?!
*just like THAT*
I was left with MORE tears in my eyes when a friend called (I KNOW! I'm as shocked as you; I actually answered the phone!) to promise her husband (and his truck) into slave labor this weekend by helping us get rid of a bunch of stuff AND invited us to Thanksgiving dinner at her house, because there was NO WAY IN HELL we could have Thanksgiving at a restaurant! (her words, exactly...or almost. Don't get nit-picky. At this point, my brain can't take nit-picky).
And yeah...that is how rapidly things are happening around here and perfectly explains why my mind is in perpetual yo-yo mode.
Y'all have no idea how much I am ready for this move to be over already. Seriously.
Awe, what a GREAT friend! I'm glad you found a place to temporarily (Is that spelled right? My brain is fried and I'm desperate for my bed right now) live. I'm sure that's a huge relief. When you go to your friend's house for Thanksgiving and feel you need to show up with something, do NOT feel you need to cook or bake anything. Go pick up a couple bottles of wine and call it good. Pick up a can of Reddi-whip too. Everyone always forgets it for the pumpkin pie.
ReplyDeleteWhat a good friend! If I were in your neighborhood, I would have offered, too. It's happening! What a great post, I'm beginning to stop worrying about you. But just beginning... :-)
ReplyDeleteA friend that doesn't disappear when needed, is a friend INDEED! Especially when you're talking about a move!
ReplyDeleteKids, (ie: MC...yes, he's a kid) are a lot more flexible than we are, thank goodness.
I'm thinking about you and cheering you on! I understand how hard all this is and I sympathize.
Your friend sounds ace xxx
ReplyDeleteGreat friend. I'm glad you have Thanksgiving figured out!
ReplyDeleteMoving is the WORST. You DO know it's listed (somewhere on those lists list-makers make) as top 5 most stressful life experiences, right up there with death, divorce, and public speaking.
ReplyDeleteOK. Here's the deal: You are simply getting a head start for a smooth and happy 2014. Right? We are going to get this moving stuff out of the way and have a great year. Your son's text was wonderful. Love those boys!
ReplyDeleteAWE!! I LOVE man child and your friend!!
ReplyDeleteAs for your mail, save yourself the crazy darlin' and rent a po box for 3 months. It will give you time to figure it out, and take one more thing off your list. I did it when I was in between houses when the husband left (the kids were not even 1 and 2) and it really was nice knowing that it was taken care of, even if I had no idea where I was going to live.