Today on our next (supposed to be final) episode of ‘No, I mean it this time. Where’s my stuff?’ We were ready to receive. We got up early and moved everything around and consolidated. The movers had called on Friday and told us to be ready to go at noon today. So like two good little homeowners we did as we were told.
But like every other stage of this cluster, at 1:30pm they let me know it wasn’t going to be here until tomorrow at noon. Do I believe them? Not a chance in HELL. I’m sitting here shaking my head. Jeff’s mouth hung open and then he got up and went for a walk.
It’s been 137 days since we’ve seen our stuff. I swear the Pilgrims on the Mayflower, in conjunction with reverse pioneers in a conestoga wagon, could have moved our things from the west coast of the US – across the fly over states – and gotten it here faster. So yes, I’m angry blogging. Jeff says I’m ‘Blongry’.
Last night we were so excited. And this morning you could have peeled us off the ceiling. We were singing and free associating about what was coming and what we would use first. Jeff hasn’t had any sandals here and it’s been 40 degrees. So his Keens are the first thing he’ll put on. Those and the other 5 pairs of shorts that are so close he can feel them.
I’m going to hug my good pans and make myself an omelet. I might bake something. But first I’m going to count my shoes and then pet them. Then comes my paired down hand bag collection. And our art work and family photos.
How? I wish someone could explain to me HOW this keeps happening to us. But there is no one to ask. Everyone I speak to has this vague malaise about their small mishaps in the quilt that has become the giant mishap in the supply chain. There seems to be no architect of it. Just a general cloud of nonsense that has guided, or misguided, this entire move.
At this point, I want our stuff here so I no longer have to put energy into the negativity of it all. I can check it off my list and call it good. If it’s all broken or damaged I won’t be happy, but at least I’ll know where it is. And perhaps the acid reflux I’ve developed will calm down in the volcano that has become my stomach.
When the guy called me Friday I told him I hoped I had enough time to get a permit for the parking on the street. He told me not to worry about it. We don’t have that much stuff and he’d looked at it on Google Streetview and he thought they would be able to navigate it without blocking the parking. Let’s hope tomorrow he takes the same view. But like most things in my life these days, I can do nothing about any of it. I just have to wait and see what happens.