14 Days...

It's been a long 2 weeks. We hired a local crew to pick up our measly 14,000 pounds of stuff from a storage unit 18 miles away. They brought about 2/3 of it one day in a straight truck. Decided not to go back for what remained, but had it here by noon the following day. John insisted I literally stand on the deck and dictate where each piece of furniture, every antique, the miscellaneous 200 boxes, and 50 containers should be placed. (Might have a bit of scaling back to do again in the future. Perhaps a ton or so). Plus I was trying to set up my new, smaller kitchen. Sounds like a perfect storm brewing.

 

A pittance of what belongs in my kitchen...

About a dozen antique pieces had been in our former master bedroom (the size of Delaware) for the last 2 decades, so naturally I directed those pieces to be put in what would eventually be our bedroom. But this bedroom is about 1/2 the size as North Muskegon. It filled quickly. Massive oak antiques. I was determined to keep 3 particular pieces besides our king size bed and night stands. A couple of dandy dressers. And I had my heart set on keeping this one big wardrobe. A beauty. Since our spare bedroom is decent sized, I wanted it with our 7 foot oak double bed.

 

We've had this gorgeous piece over 30 years...

 

The moving crew could not get the wardrobe (Saran wrapped like a mummy) around the corner from the hallway though. So they plopped it in the already crowded master. Blocking any chance of getting around it to reach the 4 box wardrobes holding all of our clothes. Remember, it's now been almost 2 months and I'm still wearing the same few crappy outfits I packed in August.

 

Beautiful, massive oak wardrobe simply does not fit in this house. Bummer...

 

Had I been using the brain God gave me, I would have known this spelled disaster. But by day 2, I was numb and dumb. Why in heaven's name did I have all the furniture packed in that room? We had decided that the wall between it and the third bedroom was going to be knocked out? How is the contractor supposed to work around all that crap if I can't even get to my clothes? Well, I couldn't worry about that room just yet, as he wasn't due to start that project for a couple weeks. I was concerned about getting the kitchen and family room is some kind of order. So we could at least live here.

I was carefully mulling where and how to fill my cupboards. The drawers were surprisingly easy in my decision making. Why? Because I have 2. Not a typo, you read it right, 2. And one is the size of my granddaughter Ari's waist.

 

Ari. Wow. She is tiny, but fierce...

 

That's where I'll put the pot holders and trivets. I'm not counting the 2 teensy-weensy drawers below the sink. They'll each hold a couple of chore girls, max. But the other drawer is quite large. A quick count on the drawers in former kitchen totaled 13 in my head. My, my what to do with the other 11 drawers of boxed items, itching to go into my kitchen. Well, there is this smallish room off the dining room. I call it the pantry. Four large cupboards and 2 drawers. A nice counter, and a back door leading outside. Only about a dozen steps away from my sink. A nice big, under utilized closet. Even I can see the closet has wasted space up the ying-yang. So I enlisted the help of the closet guru of the family. Tech wizard, Josh. He's going to figure out the placement of some more shelves, thus fulfilling my newly named room. Can't decide if I need to put canned goods or small appliances like the waffle iron, and crockpots in there. Hope both can be managed like an arranged marriage. Hey, they don't have to love each other right away.

 

Awesome but still cluttered pantry...

 

Back to the helter-skelter-bedroom mess. We hired a guy to knock out a wall between the 2 smaller bedrooms. Making the master sort of L-shaped. We could have gone the other way, making the room a larger rectangle, but then the spare bedroom would be very, very small. My vision of a lovely 7 foot oak headboard, plus the massive wardrobe smashed against each other was not very appealing. The 2 pieces had yet to spend one night together. Where was the flirting, wooing, the mating dance? That's when the Hubs threw me a zinger. When Duke (not THE DUKE, he's dead, but the construction dude, Duke) tore out the wall, but before he closed off the second doorway, we could scoot (right, it weighs like a ton) the wardrobe into the spare room. But after Duke closed off that door, the wardrobe was never coming back out of that room. Just when she and the 7 footer (bed) were getting cozy. I actually started a mild-to-middling panic attack. No, that wouldn't do. After a few days we had our son-in-law Tracey, (he was so relieved we were finally out of his hair, he was happy to help for a few minutes. A not so subtle play on words, as he shaves his handsome head). Plus our incredibly cute, strong grandson Landon and his buddy Harry lug the wardrobe out to the garage. And that folks is why arranged marriages rarely work out for the best.

 

Living room remained packed tight for a week...

 

Out of 200 boxes, 50 containers, the moving elves had arranged with relative ease, finding the boxes containing Blue Delft, Waterford Crystal and Lladro. I put the boxes right by my 2 curved glass secretaries and curved glass china closet. The shelves to all 3 cabinets remained in seclusion for several days by the resident poltergeist. Not funny Durwood (poltergeist's affectionate name). I have since found 2 sets of the shelves. Washed all the Delft and Lladro figurines, but the Waterford is still boxed on hold for the cleanse. I know I had Saran wrapped all the shelves from each cabinet together. The first moving squad must have plunked most of them in flat picture/mirror boxes. I was not made aware of that little move. I went through about 8 of those boxes today, but have yet come up with that last set of shelves.

 

China closet shelves finally made an appearance. Blue Delft is back home...

 

More than likely this means they're in the garage. Ugh. Boy oh boy, the garage is really a hell of a mess. Might be another few days. It's the domino affect. Have to wait for Duke to stop adding layers of mud, sanding, more mud (not really mud at all, it's white and eliminates seeing seams, cracks on his newly minted wall and non-wall). He might be a perfectionist in this department. Once he's finished, we order new carpet, paint the ceiling, then the walls with Kilz. A primer type paint to take care of the red and navy walls of one room and the pink/purple/walls and castle. Complete with a dragon protecting the castle. Kind of sad to paint over that. Ok, I'm over it. Let's paint. Then we can move antiques, brass head and footboard, king size mattress and box springs from the garage, maybe leaving enough room for the Jeep (in the garage, not the bedroom) before the snow flies.

 

You can catch the dragon's tail sliding behind the U-haul box...

 

This saga continues with yet another chapter soon. I know I've been lax about writing. It's not that I don't want to write, but I've been pulled in too many different directions. And my concentration level is nil. I wrote a comment on someone's post a few days ago that I've come to the conclusion I am not a 10 minute writer. Takes me that long to formulate my first sentence. A dozen times and different ways. Usually consisting of about 3 words. If I don't have a couple hours to really get a story going, I just can't commit. It will get better, I hope. Or my stories will dwindle to nothingness. Hope not.

 

My lovely back yard maple just starting to turn...

 

A few words about the Hubs. Sigh. He's actually had a really rough couple of months. First, he who never, ever has back issues, threw out his back while we were sweating to the oldies packing in August. Severely hampering our timeline. He's been my muscle for a half century. I was completely befuddled on what and how to do things without much of his help. His concentration level was far worse than my mixed up, muddled mind. Too much to do, not enough time (though we'd been waiting for this moment for 3 years to move). Plus the biggie weighing on both of our minds. Holy shit, we got nowhere to go. Hmm.

 

Our hedge at the back of our lot. Stunning colors...

 

Fast forward. Living with Shannon and crew. 3/4 of a ton safely stored because of quick thinking Tracey who knew a guy. Yeah, that kind of thing. We bought a home needing some work (loosely using this term. Good house, but a horrible mess). We're both working on it very hard everyday. Ordering carpets, painting. John's doing repair work. Holes in the walls, small leak from the water heater. Another leak from the toilet (only good thing about the bathroom, which still needs a major remodel). But he's seriously missing tools because we don't have our 14,000 pounds of much needed stuff yet. So he's using the wrong tool and gouges his thumb with a carpet knife. What the knife had been used on before was not a good thought. We bandage his thumb a couple times because it keeps bleeding through. (Note to Neese: take him in for stitches next time). Of course, soon the thumb was swollen about twice the size, is bright red and throbbing painfully. Quick trip to a med station. Two prescriptions, but it would be a good 10 days before that wound closed. So Hubs could not do anything like saw, use a screwdriver, drill or hammer. Sigh.

 

Trying out the griddle on my new gas stove. I like it...

 

His thumb is better. Peeled like he sunburned it good, but he was back in business. Except for his lame back. But it too was getting better. Enter a mild, obnoxious cough. Sigh. (Honestly, how many times can I sigh in one post)? Hubs had a scratchy throat, runny nose and this cough. Which got worse and worse. And worse. (I think the answer is for us to find a new primary care doc. Then we'll never need him). I finally laid down the law, said he had to be seen by someone, so another trip to the med station. (It kinda sounds like I'm describing a clumsy pre-schooler). The good news. Doctor said he was about a day away from pneumonia and a hospital stay. Acute bronchitis. Ugh. Nothing remotely cute about it. Three prescriptions this trip. Yup, things are looking up. For a spell this week, I swear he did not stop coughing for 48 hours straight. I do see tiny improvements. Hasn't been able to do anything, but his voice is better, and he's sleeping better. Coughing a bit less. A very tiny bit less.

 

25 bucks a quart guaranteed to cover my hopeless purple door with 1 coat. Liars...

 

So I've had to step up to the plate. With tools in my hands, I'm a disaster. But I have managed a couple of projects. After 3 years in storage, I finally found my balls! Gorgeous Waterfords which hung in my bay window until we cleared our "for sale" home of any Neese personality. Now look how I'm hung!! And I did it all myself. Quite proud of this little endeavor.

 

The balls were once more hanging in the window with care. In hopes that a realtor never comes near...

 

 

Something that John usually handles is running around. Picking up this, that and the other thing. Well this week, I've had to do all the schlepping. Light bulbs, paint, tools, outlet covers, not the most fun shopping. Yesterday was one such trip. I got him settled in his chair with cough syrup, inhaler, hot tea. I zoomed off to get cellular shades and some groceries. As God is my witness this is 5 minutes worth of texts during my little trip between us. Yup, sick as a dog, about 50 years after first laying eyes on him, Hubs continues to make me laugh. At times...

 

Hubs speak is gray. Me cracking up is in blue...