4, 3, 2, 1 - Guster Day and Easter Weekend

 So that won't come around on the calendar again, April 3, 2021, 4/3/21, or 4, 3, 2, 1 when out the barrel of a gun... a nice Guster reference on your calendar!

Enjoy. This is an old version from Guster on Ice, but it's better quality than a lot of the fan videos that come up on youtube when you search.  Never has a song about wet dreams been such a great radio hit! 

We have had a quiet few weeks. Went and got that hutch and then nothing really big has been going on. Work has been very busy for both of us. 

Geoff received his clinical placement at a hospital in DC, so on Saturday we took a drive down to scope out the joint and get an idea about where the office was located. He has to be there at 7am on June 1, and is anxious because you cannot see the office/location from the street - it is somewhere in the depths of the hospital complex. We assured him that it would be okay and day-of he'd probably get help from someone at the front desk to let him know where to go. After 2 years of pre-requisite and course work, now we get to the nitty gritty, an actual hospital placement. 

Wish him luck, continue to send him good vibes, academically he is doing really well but this is where his weaknesses (if you can call them that) show - in person interactions. Hopefully things will go well. My heart is supportive and fingers crossed. 

Easter was spent puttering around the yard, sitting outside in the sun, enjoying the day, doing a little more unpacking, and just generally taking it easy. Doug bought a grill a few weeks back so "Grillmaster 5000" planned out a wonderful standing rib roast on the grill, with baked potatoes, and veggies, and everything. Two hours with indirect heat after a 20 minute high temp sear, it came out amazing. Absolutely amazing. We sat at the dining table, which I finally got cleared off after having boxes and stuff all over it for weeks, had wonderful conversation, and it was a truly pleasant time. The only thing missing, again, another holiday's worth of Jess. 

We gave Phineas one of the rib bones and he went to town on it - absolutely and thoroughly. Living his best life for 2 days. He got it stuck under the liquor cabinet at one point and was very sad until I figured out what he needed. 

Last night, he threw up repeatedly. Small bits of bone that he'd broken off of the rib after cleaning it completely. I went and found the big piece left in the livingroom, still a lot of rib there, and threw it away, cleaned up his puke, went outside with him, three times. Today he's sleeping like a champ. I'm glad he gets to do that but sad that I cannot. 

Actually nothing says I can't, I guess? 

That's about all. Nothing super exciting. Feeling tired and drained and just would rather not work but continue to unpack and organize. As Doug says, "it'll all come together in time." 

Guess so.

Phineas vs. Things

 

Phineas, Phinney, Phinster, Phinmeister, Phin, first of his name, is settling in nicely at our house. 

I have a couple of fun videos of what happens when it is dinner time, which are hilarious. I'll find a place to put them so folks can see (and so they don't eat up more of my Google storage space. I do not feel like paying for more storage). 

He gets in bed with us every night and loves to cuddle up. He waits for an invitation when I am getting under the covers, standing patiently by the bedside. Some nights Doug or I have to go to the guest room because he migrates around a lot, and ends up under-butt. He produces a lot of heat. 

Last weekend, Doug needed to take a ride to his office in Virginia to connect his brand new laptop to the VPN in order to reset his password. He figured he could do it from the parking lot (he was only partially wrong, he was out of range so we had to park in the loading zone on the side of the building, where no loading was happening but security did eyeball us heartily). We took Phin for the ride. He pretty much sat contentedly in the back seat, looking out the window. I wanted to put him in the all-the-way back of the Jeep to get him used to that but Doug wanted to just see how he does in seat. 

We got to the office, he connected his laptop successfully, and we headed out for a scenic drive around NOVA. We found ourselves driving through and close to Old Town Alexandria, which is the fancy fru fru downtown where all the haps happen. It was a beautiful, warm, sunny day. Everyone in the world was out. Pandemic be damned! Let's go! This seems to be the psyche of the American anymore with this Coronavirus. Everyone's over it, even if we're supposed to be distancing and taking care of ourselves, or, as many of my friends are still doing, not going anywhere. 

We basically have only been to the market or out for walks in the neighborhood since September when we were in Oregon. We both have had coronavirus, so Doug's thoughts are we really don't need to be behaving like we're under quarantine anymore. A lot of people who have been vaccinated fully and have waited 14 days, well, they should be able to also go out. 

Doug and I contemplated just going home, but he wanted to walk. We had been in the car for over an hour, getting ourselves good and lost in a few places. So he wanted a leg stretch. We parked, we took the dog out, we masked up to follow the rules (even though so many just aren't, but who are we to nag? It's outside, folks. Outside is good side!). 

Phin's former owner had warned us that he is not good with other dogs. Aggressive, unfriendly, bitey. Two weekends ago we had gone on a walk and met 3 dogs. 2 were successful sniff and greet, noses touching and no growling or biting. One was not. The owner was cool (his dog technically started it) and he said he's trying to socialize her more with other dogs so it was a good experiment and no one got hurt. 

I want him to be good with other dogs, because I would like to walk around and see people and not feel any fear over this. Doug is of the mindset that he can break Phin of this "I'mma bite you" habit, so he wants to bring him out as much as possible. I told him we should talk to a neighbor with a dog (Matt, up the street, the one who owns Bear, the runaway Chocolate Lab from a few entries ago) just to see if we can get them together. 

Phin lunged at a few dogs on our walk, Doug pulled him back quickly, and told him no and said hi to the owners. People seemed cool and said "It's okay, my dog doesn't like other dogs either." Seems to be a theme around here, I guess. 

We got thirsty and hungry, found ourselves a Brauhaus and a free/open outdoor table against  the front wall. Doug said this would be a good spot to keep Phineas still, and we could sit/drink/eat and sequester him from others walking down the sidewalk.

With their dogs. 

Phin lunged at a couple. One was an exceptionally sweet and curious golden who saw him there and wanted to say hi. Another was a dog who was actively hoovering food off the sidewalk the entire walk (I saw him coming from up the block). Doug was prepared for the snoot seeking treats under the table. 

Overall, I think he did well. Doug is very firm with him, and he does not get a cookie or anything (his previous owner loved giving him treats just for breathing or whatever. Doug is anti-cookie unless you do the absolute best thing ever). Phin got a cookie when we got home for doing great on the ride, and walking good on the leash, and only lunging at 4 dogs out of the dozens we saw. 

Under Doug's hand, I'd say that was a great day out in the world for Phineas. 

Today, Doug is at the hardware store shopping for his very first gas grill. We've never owned one. He's always been a Charcoal Or Nothing kinda guy but here we are. He's ready to take the advice of Hank Hill and "taste the meat, not the heat" over here. 

Phineas didn't like that Doug left without him (sorry buddy, you're stuck with me). I decided I would vacuum while Doug was not here, as he hates the vacuum cleaner. I think I've mentioned this in the past. When I'm home by myself for any stretch of time, the first thing I'm going to do is vacuum. 

I talked to Phineas to let him know what I was about to do. I pulled the vacuum out (we haven't vacuumed since we moved in, or dusted, or done the floors, and it is starting to show). I plugged it in and turned it on. Initially he seemed completely unbothered but then got in front of it and kept trying to stop it from moving forward, with his face. 

He was getting agitated by it and whining so I pointed him up to the chair and told him to stay. Worked for 30 seconds before he was back attempting to start a fight with the machine. 

Instructed back to chair. 30 seconds. Good boy - oh. you're back. No. Please go back up. 

Over and over. 

I eventually got the vacuuming done, and he seemed satisfied once I put the machine away. I have a feeling this will be our routine, at least until he gets used to it. 

I thought about getting a Roomba, but now I am not sure because he might attack it, flip it, break it or whatever, and I don't want to deal with that. Those dumb things are expensive. 

He's happy Doug's home. Peace is restored to the kingdom. 

What else is going on. Well, Doug got that new laptop, and they gave him 2 big huge monitors, so he set up a nice workstation in the basement, after setting mine up a couple weekends ago. So now we both work down there. I feel like I need a cubicle wall. 

Work has been amazingly busy. We try not to step on each others' toes. I have to do a lot of calls, so sometimes I'll go upstairs. I'm trying to figure out how to get my printer to be available on the wifi next. I just can't get it to work, and it used to be attached to our modem at the last house, but I'm at a loss as to how to set it up here as the modem is upstairs, printer is down, and I don't want to put the printer in my bedroom just to print a couple times a year. That's weird. 

I've been trying to get the boxes that go into storage organized. The camping stuff is in 3 places, there are books from Doug's college years he doesn't want to get rid of, so I want to stack them up together in a corner somewhere. There are boxes of kids' art. There is a box somewhere downstairs with things I want to get framed, that I saved when packing up in Massachusetts, and my Guster posters are in there, along with some classic Geoff and Jess things that I really love and want to keep. 

For the life of me I have no idea where that box is. 

We also have a ton of books that didn't go to the library book sale up in Massachusetts before we moved, and I regret that they are still in my life. I don't want them, Doug is not sure about getting rid of them. So they are in boxes.

We have a ton of glass, mugs, unused things that I just do not care to have out but don't want to pitch. So those are down there. Doug's grandma had a ton of coffee cups. We have used quite a few of them but don't have the space up here for all of them. I repacked some of the boxes and there are 2 really cute snowmen mugs that I know my kids drank hot chocolate out of in Ohio 20 years ago at her big round dining table in the senior community in Columbiana. 

Those were carefully re-wrapped along with some mugs for dessert making (pudding/fancy coffee with booze kinds of things). 

We have a spoon display box to hang collectible spoons on, but I am not sure where the spoons are. Sometimes I find the spoons and don't know where the wooden thing is, others I know where the wooden thing is and can't find the spoons, so they stand to be reunited some day, I guess. 

I've got about 30 boxes stacked up downstairs that are empty. I'm going to collapse them, and store them for the next move. They're all worth keeping, and to be honest, who knows in 2 years what we'll be doing but a head start on repacking will be nice. 

Doug has his grill. He didn't want to pay $30 to have it assembled, and then have to go pick it up on Tuesday. So this should be interesting. I'm happy I have a box of wine and chores to do downstairs as he has decided he's assembling the grill here in the living room, that way if he doesn't finish it, it won't be sitting outside half assembled overnight. I told him to set it up in the basement since I just cleared out a ton of space but he's hell bent to being up here. 

Oh joy.

Pathology

 wanted a separate post to say the pathology results came back negative. All's well in the kingdom of the left boob and the atypical ductal hyperplasia situation. 

i have a follow up appointment on video call at 2:15 today, and bloodwork on Monday, and another post-op in-person visit on March 16th (Guster Day, for those in the know, for "5am, March 16th. Jesus on the Radio you took a photograph of me...). 

A good day to have that follow up. and I'll probably be up at 5am to sing that little song too. 

My Left Boob, apologies to the movie about the Foot

For those interested in the back story, here is the entry about my Birthday Boob Biopsy, a gift to myself. 

I didn't write much about the follow up to that, I said "here's to the nothingburger" that I thought it would be. Well, it was a little more of a somethingburger. 

The biopsy results showed I had Atypical Ductal Hyperplasia. The breast health doctors assured me that it was not cancer, but, if left alone and ignored, it runs the risk of developing into cancer down the road. Recommendation was that we remove the ADH area. 

The surgeon described it as a golf ball sized amount of tissue et al. I joked that in my already small and wee boobies, a golf ball is a significant amount of tissue but okay. Gotta do what's right and healthy. 

We picked a date.
I got COVID-19.
I rescheduled the date.
We got the house rental all set up a month and a half before we needed to and my surgery was scheduled in the midst of moving time.
I realized how much I'd need to do before the move and if I had surgery the beginning of February, I'd be unable to accomplish things. Plus, I was still reeling from feeling tired and drained post-covid). 

I rescheduled again. 

It's kind of a normal thing for me to postpone and reschedule things that are self-care related. The calendar is never right. There's always a thing, or someone needs to do something, or I need to do something. It's a complicated life. I feel like I spend so much time doing absolutely nothing, but that time is rarely in a long enough stretch that it makes sense to get a hysterectomy or boob surgery or anything that will knock me on my ass for more than four days. And work. Holy cow, I missed two solid weeks and a lot of stray hours from Covid. I don't want to say I'm the carabiner that holds our team on the side of the mountain but wow. It was a lot of me not being there.

So the rescheduling was at a good time. 

This Monday, I kept the appointment, I had the surgery, and we got the mess removed. Waiting on the results of the pathology right now. 

How do I feel? Sore. Right into my armpit, just like with the biopsy. I'm so glad we got in the house, got the dog, are semi-settled, and things are cruising along because there is no way I could have done this during the month of February. 

Dog has been a constant bed companion. He's a cuddler, so he likes to be close. Which is something I wish I'd had during the Covid recovery period. 

I'm up and about, but not allowed to lift things. I will get The Boy to pick the laundry basket up and put it on the bed and I can fold the contents. I'm sure that will make me uncomfortable but it'll keep me busy. I can do dishes, so I'm keeping up on that because my men are just not good at keeping up with it. We don't have a lot of space for the dishes to dry so you have to wash a few at a time until they are all done, and then there are more. It actually gives me something to look forward to. I can walk out to the kitchen and wash some plates or all the glasses that have accumulated. Accomplished! 

Sleep has been alright, Monday I went to bed and pretty much slept through the night, and most of Tuesday. I got up around 1pm and made it to the living room to hang out. Bed at 9pm Tuesday, but woke up at 9am and decided to be up for the day. I spent time proofreading a book for my friend Matt and got halfway done. 

Last night was rough. I had some serious restless leg going on, and my boob hurt. No position I could put myself into was comfortable. I was ready to give up and go continue reading Matt's book but I wanted to be wide awake and clear headed for proofing. I then realized I had not taken the pain medication at 9pm when I headed to bed. It was after 1:30, I didn't want to get out of bed, I was semi-trapped by Dog, but wiggled my way up and out from under the covers successfully while only making a few pained noises. The pain medication helped, and I was able to fall asleep. 

Doug dropped his phone under the bed at 7:30 and needed to get the broom to get it, so, I got up, showered, and got ready for work. 

My boob is swollen and tender. There is a steri strip over the incision so I haven't seen it yet. The doctor said not to pull it off, that it would fall off on its own. I'll take his advice on that and wait. Not seeing a lot of bruising, just swelling that is reminiscent of when I would breastfeed the children and we'd go too long between feedings. Firm and tender, uncomfortable for sure. 

The doctor told me to take two weeks off and I laughed. What on earth would I need two weeks off for? It isn't like I'm riding the metro and commuting, or schlepping a laptop bag over my shoulder (God, that would hurt so much right now). I work at home in Guster T-shirts and yoga pants. So he told me to take a week.

I opted to take three days, and today's the day I'm back. There's a lot to do. I read all the slack messages during my time out and there's so much happening. So. Much. I'm trying to wrap my head around how so much can change and happen in 3 days. 

So, into the fire we go, I guess. But as the saying goes... "But first, coffee." 

Welcome Phineas

Back in December, before we got the Covid, we met a girl to talk about us adopting her dog. 

That's the link if you need a refresher on his tale. Her life and work schedule were such that she no longer felt it was fair to him to keep him cooped up in their DC apartment, and she wanted better for him. We were ready to welcome a new friend, and were in the market for someone who was already housebroken as we rent. 

We met up and took a nice walk in Rock Creek Park and talked about life, the universe, and everything. She was actively looking for a new job, nothing was panning out in DC. She was hoping for Richmond or close to it, so she could be near her family so he would have someone to care for him during the day and she'd feel a lot less guilt. But none of those jobs were panning out either. We totally got it. 

He seemed disinterested in us, mostly interested in being out for a walk. She gave him copious treats, which amused Doug because you get one treat for being good and going outside to pee.

We agreed the following weekend we'd meet up, have her come to our house, check the situation and see that we aren't weirdos who adopt dogs and then bait them in a dogfighting ring or something. 

She wanted a week for closure, to say goodbye, and we thought that was perfectly reasonable. 

During that week, she texted me to say she'd changed her mind. She wasn't ready. She just couldn't do it. We told her that was perfectly alright. We understood how very hard this must be, to have a pal for 10 years and then ponder a situation like this. Our hearts were full and open to her. 

If you change your mind please let us know, was our standpoint.
If you find another dog and don't want him, I absolutely understand, was hers.

We then got Covid, the new year came, we found a place to move to which allowed dogs (with a fully fenced in yard so any dog could come and be with us at some point). We were in a position for something to happen this spring, and Doug began looking again.

She contacted us the week we were moving to let us know she was ready. She'd given it a lot more thought, and had finally gotten a new job, but it was a driving commute, and hour each way. That was more time away from him, where he'd be alone in the apartment waiting for her. It was even less fair to him. 

I put a mom hat on and asked if it was smart of her to maybe move closer to the job, would that be a possibility? She said she was in a lease, and that it wasn't a possibility.  I get it. For sure. 

Were we still interested?

As you can see. We indeed were still interested. This is Phineas. First of his name. Age 10. She didn't know his birthdate, but based on guesses and adoption paperwork she decided his birthday is Halloween, so it shall stand.

We moved into the house, and Doug wasted no time. She had taken two weeks off between the jobs, had a good time with him, and was ready to meet us. 

She came up on Thursday of this past week, I think we were here in the house all of 10 days. She was sad, and it was hard for us to hide our joy with having him here in the house, and temper it with being kind to her and her situation. 

When she left, he whined and paced a little bit. Stood at the fence at the street and watched her drive away. I chose to go into the bedroom and join a conference call that I'd hopped off of, because I didn't want to cry over this. He was given a treat, and encouraged to come into the house. 

And our lives together began. I do wonder what goes through his mind, like if he wonders where she is, is she coming back? Why am I here with these dumb people? Can I please go home? 

But then he seems completely into us, even likes going to visit Geoff downstairs and hang out a little bit. Geoff wants him to sleep down there, but Phin does not want to. He prefers it up here.

He is affectionate, likes to be in between on the couch with us. Has a dog bed but prefers the people bed and starts the night between our shoulders but moves to our feet after a bit. He isn't barky or bitey, if we have to nudge his ass to get him out of the way, he is compliant and understanding. He is an early bird, awake with the sun and ready to eat and go out. 

Right now, he's in the bedroom with Doug on this dreary day, taking a nap. In this picture, it is morning coffee time yesterday, settled in on my knee for some quiet time. 

He gets riled up if he sees the leash or dog poop bags. Or if someone says "walk." He's very smart, but also kind of a vacuum so we need to make sure we don't leave food within his nose reach or he'll snarf it down. 

Doug had hoped for us to take a really nice walk today but the weather messed up his plans. I think that's God's way of telling us to stay here and unpack and organize. We have spent a lot of time up at the old house finishing up the cleaning and emptying the shed. The weather was such that we didn't want to get up there and try to unload the shed and slip on ice. 

So we're done there, and life is good here, with a dog. And boxes. Organization will come, all in due time. 

The Story of Fernando and the Rental Scam

I was up the old house, Doug was here at the new house unloading the Jeep. 

I heard a little neighbor boy named Jake, who lives up the side street, screaming. I looked out the kitchen window to see his big old lab-mix of a dog named Bear hauling ass down the road.  Bear was a good friend of Brodie's, and would hang out with her in the grass while I talked to Jake's dad, Matt, during the after dinner outside time in the summer. Bear was very patient, and seemingly very docile. Seeing him run was quite the sight. 

Jake was frantic, and Bear was on the go. I went outside to try to help, Bear didn't have a collar on, and was very evasive. He let me run my hand down his back, but there was nothing to hold on to, other than his tail. Which, I was reluctant to grab because who likes having their tail grabbed. 

He took off again, running south down our street toward our new place. I regretted not grabbing his tail.

Doug was standing out front talking to someone, and so I yelled to him to grab Bear. He noticed the situation and crossed the street to try and help. Bear just kept going, and Jake screamed to Doug that he needed help. 

A guy pulled up next to me in his car, "Do you need help catching your dog?" he asked me. 

I had a chuckle as I thought of The Pink Panther and almost answered in a French accent with Clouseau's famous line "It's not my dog," but said in all seriousness, "Yes. We need help." If the guy caught the dog and brought him back to this house, at least we were close enough to Jake's that we could get Bear home. 

Doug wasn't able to grab Bear either, and the guy in the car said he'd try to get Bear in. Doug went down the road where Jake had kind of cornered Bear, and the guy had his door open. Bear almost got in, and then decided to take off again. 

I went back into the house, because I felt useless and helpless and had left the kitchen sink running when I heard Jake screaming for help, and hoped for the best. I went down to the basement to pack up the utility room, and was busily piling things into our roasting pan to put in a box when I heard Doug walking around upstairs.

"Honey," Doug called to me, "Where are you?"

Me: "In the basement, in the laundry room." 

DWG: "Can you come up here a minute?"

Me: "No, can you come down here?" 

DWG: "Actually no I need you up here, please." He was very polite sounding, which was odd especially considering how tired we both are, and how we're just done with everything. So I figured something must be up.  I thought maybe he had caught Bear and needed my help.

I went up to see him standing in the living room with a man and his daughter. I smiled brightly. "Oh hello!" 

Who the heck are these people? I wondered.

"This is Fernando," Doug introduced. "He came to our new place, and said he was there to pick up the keys. He's supposed to be renting the house. The one that we have just moved into."

Oh dear. Oh.... fucking hell.

His daughter explained they had found the listing on Craigslist, complete with photos of the interior, and the rent was $1000 a month. The man had told him he had to relocate to Michigan quickly and needed to rent the place as soon as possible. He was going to have a friend meet them at the house to give them the keys, and needed a down payment immediately via paypal.

Fernando paid him $1000. The man said to meet his friend at the house Saturday morning. 

Of course, the man's friend was not at the house, was not going to be at the house, and the man had stolen $1000 from a hard working dad and his family.  

He was confused when Doug had explained to him that we just moved in last week. Doug wanted me to help explain. Like I could explain it any better? I'm sure he explained it fully and completely. 

"Oh no," I said, as Doug explained to me what Fernando had told him (that's who Doug was talking to while Bear was running all over the neighborhood). "I am so sorry, but I think that man stole money from you. You found the place on Craigslist? This happens a lot lately, and I'm so sorry." 

"Did you get to tour the house, or come to the house and meet anyone?" I asked. 

No. They never got to see the inside but they had pictures. Doug wondered how they got pictures but I told him that it was on Zillow. And that they were watermarked with the rental agency's name. 

They explained that had previously driven by the house and that it was empty. No one was living there. That was probably between when we signed the lease and when we moved in, a couple weeks tops. 

Fuck, I hope this isn't going to be a repeat scam and people aren't going to be showing up here all the time. But more than that, Fuck. These poor people. What the actual hell. What is wrong with people that they do shit like this. I'm so angry about this. And so sad. 

I explained that we had rented through a Realtor, through a rental agent. Craigslist is full of scams, and promises that are just not true. I was so sorry, and I called our agent for some advice. Her name is Lauren. She's delightful. 

I explained what happened while Doug and Geoff talked and Fernando and his daughter talked. Lauren was distressed. "This has been happening a lot lately because people are being told they can't take a tour of the inside of the house because of Covid, so it is easy to scam people. I'm so sorry for them. This is horrible. Please call the police non-emergency number, report this and they'll start a case, they may not be able to help but they may. I'm not sure." 

We used my phone to call the county police, the person answering was very kind as I explained the situation. She said that she needed to speak to Fernando, so I explained they would need to get an interpreter on the line to help, so Fernando could fully tell his story. They asked me a bunch of questions, asked for Lauren's contact info to make sure she is legit (she totally is) and asked Fernando for the contact phone and email and paypal info of the guy they communicated with. 

After the call was over, my heart ached, my head hurt, and I felt horrible for them. 

I gave them Lauren's number, to see if she could help them find somewhere to live. They need a place by next weekend because they have to be out of their current apartment for March 1st. 

Literally there was nothing I could do other than encourage them not to give up, and to work with a rental agent instead of Craigslist. This didn't have to happen, and it shouldn't happen. Ever.

I went to bed last night thinking of them, hoping and praying for a good resolution for them. Not sure if the police will be any help, but it was worth the call, I think. 

I hope.

The Never Ending Story

We finally got everything out of the house. 

Yesterday I went up with Doug (he's been doing the bulk of the final move, thank God) to work on the basement. 

Me: "Did you empty out that storage room? Where you have your precious antique Pittsburgh Steelers beer cans from 1984?"

DWG: "um. Maybe?" 

Insert narrator voice - "No he did not." 

Geoff has 2 drum sets, one that we got him for Christmas when he was like 8 and one that a friend gave me. Both are partially good, the cymbals on both sets are trashed, and he needs to replace them. A couple of the drum heads are borked, so they've been sitting in that storage room collecting spider eggs and dust. He hasn't played them since we lived in the brown house, since high school. 

That was fun to move. Drums are awkwardly shaped things.

And, of course, Doug sat in the living room on a folding chair beating 3 different drums and making noise for 15 minutes while I emptied out the laundry room. Of course. Hey, everyone needs a break right? 

So the only things still up there are some cleaning things, my mop and bucket, and some of the things in Geoff's bathroom, and a load of blankets in the dryer. 

Yesterday morning when Doug went up to the other house, I spent my time unpacking some boxes. He came down here around noon for lunch, and was a tad perturbed with me for spending time here instead of there. 

"We have to be out of there this weekend, you know," he says to me. "I really think you should come up there and help me. With both of us up there, we'll make short work of it." 

True, I agreed, and went up. And he was right. 

But I was also right. I had unpacked enough boxes to kind of make space and get some elbow room, and then we filled that right back up again. Had I not done what I did, it would have been a problem for us. 

All told, we're getting there. Slow and steady. 

We decided last night that it is best for us to hire a cleaning service to clean the bathrooms and kitchen. Both are beyond my skill level. Trying to leave a place "Broom Clean" when the shower in your son's bathroom is uncleanable (I left it to him to do, and man he has less skill than I do so he just didn't, so it is saaaaaaaad) is not possible. My property manager on that house is looking for a contact number for a cleaner for me, she has a couple. And then we'll get that taken care of.

And after that. We focus on here. 

Thinking about here, our kitchen is narrow and miniscule and just laid out badly. The cabinets are shallow, some of our dinner plates do not fit in the cabinet. The top cabinets are literally one inch too low for us to put the coffee maker on the counter. 

One inch. 

There is nowhere to put the microwave. Doug put the trash where I was going to put the microwave, and when I looked around I realized that was the only place to put the trash.

There is kind of a pantry, which looks like it used to be a broom closet. It is narrow and deep which means anything that gets put in there is going to get lost in the back. Forever. "Oh, do we have flour? No? Let me go buy flour." and then all 3 of us go buy flour. 

The fridge is smaller. It is about 6 inches shorter than the other one, and Doug moved all our food down yesterday, and it is just laughable how small it is because we had lots of space around things in the old fridge.

And I haven't put my roasting pan in the oven to see if it fits. If not, smaller turkey for thanksgiving for the next 2 years, I guess. 

We are going to have to use the dining room as an extension of the kitchen. There's no other way. Shelving will be bought. Something to put the microwave on top of for sure. Geoff is patiently waiting to make pizza rolls and ramen without using the stove (not because he lacks skill, but because it is so much faster). 

We stood in the kitchen and talked about what a remodel would look like, what would make sense. The dining room and living room are really good sizes - there is no reason why the kitchen couldn't be brought out, and made bigger. We then looked out back and pined for a back porch. Because a screened in back porch is just the best. 

But it isn't our house. It's a rental. And for the next two years, it's ours to deal with and make do with. And we shall.

The best part of the house right now is the finished basement - and the fact there is so much space down there. All of our shit that we are not going to be able to fit upstairs here will be happy down there. I just need to make sure I label everything correctly so we can find it later if we need it. When we need it. 

It'll all be by Doug's precious antique cans. 

90% moved

We don't have internet at the new house yet. I'm at the old house, where we still have internet (Today is a holiday so Verrrreyezin had to put us off until tomorrow for the switch-over). 

Geoff has a test tomorrow morning, Doug has to work. Internet is here. So they'll be here in the morning. 

Coffee will be here, too, so the boys will get themselves set up for their things in the morning, and I'll figure myself out. 

I think I'll be mostly down the other house, unpacking and organizing. I still have to do more packing/cleaning here, but for right now, I'll stay out of Doug and Geoff's way while they're here for the most part. 

I took tomorrow off, wishing I took the whole week off. Oh there is so very much to do. So much. Ohhh, so much.

On Saturday, we had a crazy ice storm which set us back a full day for moving stuff on our own. It did give us more time to pack though, and get organized. The best we could.

Sunday, I got up at 6am, went to the market for some milk for my coffee, and thankfully they had a ton of ice melt there. What a relief. Happy Valentine's day. Here's some ice melt! I love you! 

I got danishes and we had a leisurely morning. Got the ice melted, and the boys got to work.

They schlepped, I packed. They schlepped, I packed. Oy. We got a lot done, but I felt it was not at all enough.

For today, we hired a moving company. They were great. Sent over 5 guys to bust their asses, it cost us 1300 bucks, lunch, 50 bucks each for a tip, and some beer at the end of everything with some good laughs and great success had. I got up at 6 to continue packing, and to also get things off of the tops of other things, like the dining table, my bureau, so that everything could be moved. 

Right now, here at the old house, we have some piles of things that need brought down. Doug will be focused on his work project, big huge presentation one week from today. I'll do all I can and hopefully he won't be too wiped out to help me with more stuff. And around 3pm, hopefully we'll have internet down at the new place. 

But ugh.... the whole no internet at the new place is is so annoying. I wish it had worked out to have them at the house this morning but alas. No. I'd love to be just crashed out on my own couch typing this right now instead of sitting in a folding chair in the living room, the big empty living room, but it is what it is. 

After the moving crew left, Doug and Geoff came up to get more things. I made the beds, and put things in the linen closet. I then allowed myself some quiet time without the boys and chatted with my mom.

I noticed our new bedroom is much bigger than our old bedroom, which is kind of great.

There are things I love about the new place, like a lot more closet space, tons more living space finished in the basement, and so many outlets. We can put an over the toilet cabinet in the bathroom, which we could not here, so in-bathroom storage was a challenge. Geoff's bathroom downstairs has room for shelves so he can have his own towels and storage. In the old house, his bathroom was a tiny closet and I don't even know how he fit into the shower stall. Both bathrooms have exhaust fans, which is great. That was lacking here.

Things I do not like are no overhead lighting in the bedrooms so we need bedside tables I guess. The bathroom has a weird step-up and I keep stubbing my toes. The kitchen is so small. Not a lot of cabinet space, and two of the cabinets under sink will disappear when they put in the dishwasher next week. There is no exhaust hood over the stove, which sucks. The fridge and the stove are right next to each other, which I do not like. I'm worried about them being too close together. But a lot of rentals around here are like that, which just confuses me. I'm going to have to figure out how to protect the fridge from my cooking. 

Or my son's cooking. 

There is no countertop next to the stove, which sucks super bad for people who cook every day. All food prep has to be done behind the chef, or, we get a small rolling kitchen island to roll over to the stove and then push back. I'll have to research that. 

We have the rent paid at old place until the end of the month so I'm not in a giant hurry to get us moved tomorrow 100%. We have a lot of stuff in the kitchen still, and the pantry. Our property owner here came to the house with a realtor as the homeowner is getting ready to sell, and they toured the house while we were in the midst of packing. 

I'm very tired, Doug is watching "Outlander," and I think I'm done for the night. I'm going to walk the three doors down the street and get ready for bed.

Here we go for our next two years, and who knows how long beyond that. 

Hello, little house.

A frustrating day

 I slept pretty alright last night, three sets of crazy dreams I shared with C but won't go into full detail here. Lots of 

a) me and doug in vehicles/traveling

b) other people moving, and me helping them move (I think this betrays the fact I feel a kind of way about when I help other people move and no one is helping me)

c) I abandoned 2 babies in a yard and 2 guinea pigs in a cage, and was devastated that I did this, but they seemed okay in the end?

d) I think Doug is cheap. For sure in my dreams I do, but in real life yes, he does not like to spend money. 

this morning I slept in until 9:30. I had arranged a series of errands, from going to the bank to deposit all of our Christmas Checks (I can't get the depositty app thing to work on my phone), to returning an oxygen tank that I was told to bring back to the hospital, to picking up boxes and packing paper. 

I didn't want to leave the house. 

I felt like Cameron in "Ferris Bueller's Day Off" sitting in the car in the garage pounding on the car seat next to me saying "no. no. no." or in bed singing "Let my Cameron go..." 

Eventually I got out the door. I went to the hospital first. It is close. The up-front valet guy yelled at me when he noticed me bringing the tank to the door. "you can't drop that off here, where do you think you're going?" I told him I was told to do this and just drop it at the front desk. "No, you can't do that. They don't accept equipment at the front desk." The line to get in was socially distanced, 6 ft apart, 10 people in line. He told me to go park, and call up the hospital main line and find out what to do. 

The automation system had me on hold for 10 minutes and I got pissed. I went to pick up boxes at one house, success. Second house, success. Then to the bank. Doug told me to go to Bethesda, it was closer than the other branch. Got there and they didn't have a drive-through teller, and the ATM was outside, with 4 people waiting. In the freezing cold and snizzle. Fun. 

Finally got all the things done there, decided to take back roads to the next stop. I needed more paper for wrapping plates and shit. Went to the first place, no one was at the front desk. Went to another, the dude there was very helpful and I brought everything to the car. Decided to call the hospital and start over with that. The operator had no idea what to do with me. Spoke with someone else who said I had to call the 'third party provider' who 'gave me the tank,' and I said no third party provider gave this to me, the hospital did, and the nurse told me to return it there. 

No one was helping, and no one wanted to take responsibility for taking this tank back. Doug was all "I guess you own an oxygen tank now," and I was like "NO I DO NOT." I was going to get this tank back to the fucking right party if it fucking killed me. 

I went through all of my documentation from the hospital stay (had to find it and unpack it) and there was no mention of this being a thing. 

Finally I looked at the tank, and saw the name "provided by XXXXXXX" so I figured I'd call them directly, it was their product, maybe they'd know what to do. Hopefully. 

Alicia answered the phone. I was fuming but I always start off customer service discussions with kindness and said "Hey Alicia, how are you doing today?" 

There was a long pause, which made me a little worried. Eventually she said "Well, I can't complain, I'm alive? And I'm here?" I said "Wow, that's what I needed to hear, I will not complain, even though I had a rough day, I'm happy to be here, and happy you're here too." 

She asked what she could do for me, and I told her my saga of Nurse tells me bring to hospital, Valet says no you can't bring to front desk, Switchboard has Zero idea what I'm even talking about, no one wants to take the tank and if I could jettison it to the sun at this point I would. And she said "oh man, that's a hassle. I can arrange pickup." 

Finally. 

That's all I needed to hear. We talked about what day to have someone come, and how I'm moving. Should they pick up here or there.  I decided to just bring the tank with, and have them come to the new house, they could pick it up there . She confirmed my home address now, and the new address. She laughed when I told her the number, it being 3 doors down. 

"Easy move, right?" 

"Not really, I still gotta put all the things into boxes and shit. And move them. But at least it isn't like the last move." 

I said "I am so thankful for you, because no one was helpful all day and you're the best. Thank you." 

"I have to say, I'm so glad you called and I got your call," she said. "Right before you called, I had a really hard and challenging experience. I felt like a deer in the headlights, I didn't know what to do about this call and situation, and I was sitting here .... evaluating what I could have done better. What can I learn from what just happened."

Could I ever relate. I told her a little about my job and how things sometimes go, and trying to learn from the last bad experience is very valuable. A very good philosophy. And to always have empathy, always remember the other person is human. 

She apologized for the hesitancy in how she answered "how are you today" because it was something she did not expect to hear, and it took her breath away.  I told her she should have been honest and said "oh girl let me tell you about the crap day I'm having, Lord." 

"Keep my phone number, Alicia, call me if you ever need to have a conversation like this again. I'm here for you,"

Oxygen will be picked up on Monday. 

Usually I want to get off the phone as fast as possible with these things lately because I know other people are on hold. This time? I was like, let's just talk all day. 

We shared our mutual admiration for "saving the day" for each other. 

I then got to packing. More packing. Even more packing. 

We start moving tomorrow, continue Sunday, and I'm hoping we get a bunch of things unpacked so we can recycle some of the boxes to pack even more. 

Off to bed.  So much more adventure to come. 

Boxing Day, of sorts

I have been slowly packing for weeks. I took today and tomorrow off to really knuckle down on the fragile items and the things Doug and Geoff (hopefully Doug, as he's injured his shoulder) will carry. Geoff just started packing. I can hear him bumping all around down there. Doug has a big thing at work going on, so I'm leaving him off the hook for any packing right now. 

The fine glasses, Fostoria and some claret glasses or something which I can't remember the name of, are all getting a loving wash before getting packed. In the next house we don't have a hutch or storage unit. All of the houses we've lived since the brown house have had wonderful display cabinets built in, so the Noritake china, the frou frou drinky things, all could be on display like "we fancy, look at this martini glass with a monkey etched in it."

Everything glass and china related is getting labeled "Extremely Fragile" to remind D&G to not just chuck things into the jeep like you would a 90 pound box of books. Exercise extreme care. It's also going to the basement because we have to find (and agree upon) a hutch. It is also being labeled "Basement Storage" where it will be kept until we figure out what to do, what to do.

At least Doug is amenable to this. One of the things we are at odds on is the double-entry to the kitchen. One door from the living room and another from the dining room. One of those openings would be a really fantastic floor to ceiling blocked pantry cabinet on the kitchen, and then on the other side (I'm thinking the living room door is best for this, a bookcase of the same dimensions. There's not a lot of storage in this kitchen, and I just feel like I would like to block the entry to the kitchen from the living room up with a piece of furniture. 

Doug is all "pah, no." 

But I think we'll get in there and he will see the truth of my thoughts and feelings when he can't find a stock pot, because I've put it in the basement. 

We also have like 2 of everything. We have about 6 sheet pans for baking. I like baking. If we had one sheet pan out, I bet I'd find myself frustrated when Geoff makes pizza rolls and then I go to bake something and the sheet pan is in the damn sink covered with bits of baked on Totino's Combination Supreme goo. 

So 6 of them is great! 

Looking at the photo above, we (I, tbh) also have a lot of tchotchkes and sentimental things that we (again, I) just love. Do we need them? They do spark joy, so chucking them is not really an option in my mind. But do they need to be on display? Then if you think about it, if they're not out on shelves where you can see them, then what is the point of keeping them really? Why? It's a pickle, friends. Possibly next move I'll get rid of some things, but the Nobska lighthouse from my mom, and the Keytar Bear beer cans, well. 

Hmmm. Not yet. 

Right then. Back to it. In the meantime, the Kids are ready to go.