Entering

Got to come home early, asked B, "may I go home and pack?" She said, "Go." And I went. Which is good because the tension has gotten a bit much for me. I'm decompressing now. With good beer.* When I got home, ate my lunch. They were putting my OR until last, because it looked like we would end in time. And more or less, we did. Although I don't do so well waiting until after 1PM to eat. Took me a while to get food in my face, because when I got home, Moby wanted attention. I picked him up, and he purred in my arms, claws in my sweater, for over ten minutes, not to be dislodged. D heated up the lunch I'd taken with me, and brought home. He got his hug, after Cat. Both seemed to need hugs, as did I. Moby has been rushing out the apartment door, as if to say "Ok, you're going, I'm off as well!" I may well just walk him over in my arms, as long as I can get his harness found and on him. He so hates the bag, and the car.

Yes, we are moving two blocks away. This does make it somewhat easier.

We're both pretty stressed. Not as bad as before the move to Boston. But all the paperwork and financial stuff is hitting us in a new spot. Ow, ow, ow... ow. But this really is not, as a whole thing, as bad as many of the issues we've dealt with before. D's shattered elbow, for one. Just very different. So many times we say ".... um, dunno." Like about what kind of outlet we need for the dryer, or who to hire for the chimney, or how to close the doorless garage. Puzzles for the brain, suggestions gladly accepted. Got a reference for a good plumber. He had shaky phone skills, but that's alright. That's not what he's being hired for. Wanted to go to the house tomorrow, but that isn't possible. Next week, at earliest.

Closing tomorrow. Funds are wired to the Title Co. Getting my signing hand warmed up, the opposite to the one with the dicky thumb. (Dicky thumb doing well, still using the brace at work to prevent re-injury.) Another day at work, then, well, we're off. Oh, best news so far, there are people in line for our apartment, so we might not have to pay lease breaking penalties nor an additional month of rent. Which means a comfy chair! Whoo-hoo!




We'll be fine. 'Don't worry, 'bout a thing. Cuz every little thing, gonna be alright.' P (really need better pseudonyms, like Writing as Jo(e) uses) at work sang this along with me as it played in the core on Monday. She related a story of a couple moving, a boatload of people showed up to help them move, and wife had a come-apart about too many hands not in her control. Full on panic attack, apparently. I assured P that if 30 people appeared to help us move, and everything got dumped in the living room, I'd be a happy pig in shit, indeed. Wow, wouldn't I be. I know how to deal with a pile of crap. As long as it's all in the right house. P is lending us the furniture moving straps, hopefully. If she forgets them Thursday, I may call her and insist she just come and help us move. Could really use her energy. My gods, the woman is a top, she cannot stop.

Drove by House twice in our last errands today, it really is a nice place. Made me smile just to look at. When D first saw it, on our way past to another Open House that day, it caught his eye. I have proposed that we take a few meaningful items for the first time. Not to be magical, but for the psychological comfort of seeing this as our home, and telling House that it will be our Home, so that we always look on the difficulties as our Careful and Compassionate honor to perform, not a hateful burden. House will be our Home. D plans to take in a guitar first, me, my tea and kettle. Maybe some incense, and a moment of asking permission, and entering gently. Respectfully, kindly. Some cat toys, ask it to be kind to it's new guardian and god. House needs to know it's loved, for what it is. As we all do.




*

Three out of the four ingredients in Simon and Garfunkel's third album make this Belgian-style farmhouse ale a perfect golden beverage with festive herbal notes.