| | Well, I’m sorry it has been so long since I’ve updated you, and I know you’ve been waiting with bated breath. The problem is that Dave has left. You’d think after more than 10 years of marriage and 6 moves, I should have expected it. But it was actually a bit of a shock. My laid-back, fun-loving, affectionate husband is gone, and Mover Man is in his place.
Mover Man wakes up with the first light of dawn and immediately starts packing stuff up and hauling stuff around. He moves, moves, moves from dawn till dark with nary a break. His talk is clipped questions about whether this should be packed and to ask where we could order mulch from (we’ve never in our 7.5 years of living here ordered mulch, and believe me, you can tell). His emotions spring from pride at the 25 bags of lawn trash he’s bagged in 4 hours outside to stressed anxiety that we will never be able to get it all done. But mostly, he just goes, goes, goes… a lot like that Energizer bunny. Don’t think I don’t appreciate the whirlwind of activity he is and how quickly he has cleaned out our basement, laundry room, garage, and so on and so on. It is just a bit exhausting. Of course, being my normal guilt-driven self, I try my darnedest to keep up (and I’m proud to say have outlasted him a couple of nights).
I guess it’s what we need to do right now, but I can’t say I’m having fun. Mover Man took off work Thursday and Friday to work, work, work. I re-painted the living room, foyer, family room, and upstairs hall. It started out as a plan to touch-up, but I eventually realized that everything below 4 feet needed touching up (and we had touched up last year!!), so I just painted most of the visible surfaces. Our realtor still wants us to re-paint the sunporch, so we need to wire brush it and paint. And I’d like to re-finish our flagstone foyer floor.
On Tuesday, our poor trash men picked up a literal mountain of trash—probably six feet high and ten feet in diameter. And it’ll be even bigger this week. Hmmm...maybe we need to leave a tip.
We collapse, sore and aching, into bed every night, and I tend to wake up grumpy and slightly resentful of the un-fun planned for the day. But you know, once you work yourself to the bone for day after day, you just start to lose the energy required to be resentful. Plus, there isn’t a lot of talking going on, so I guess I’ve started getting tired of hearing myself complain and given up (except, of course, to you, and I know you are just thrilled to hear it). But don't expect any currently reading or watching selections for a little while because I don't think they're on Mover Man's agenda. I'm happy just to squeeze in a magazine article when I go to the bathroom. (By the way, do you think it's tacky to have a basket of magazines in the bathroom when we show our house?)
**Jack and I listened to this CD in the car yesterday on one of our runs out--for paint. He loved it. I bought it for Dave for Christmas, and I think I like it a lot, too. |
