Swoon
. . . is how I'm liking my new house, my new town, the dinner we had last night, having good friends close.
But.
Our movers were
three hours late.
(They got lost in Brooklyn.)
It took them another three to drive what took me one and a half.
(They got lost in New Jersey.)
We missed delivery of our stove.
(That's sandwiches for a week.)
The artery road is closed for the weekend.
(Provisional mental maps thus nonsensical.)
Digging out sheets at nearly midnight.
(Had internets before I had furniture.)
This daybreak, all the boxes (oh how they incessantly complained about the books) are on the first floor. They need to be on the second, mostly. Eh, no rush.
Gotta go get the last few things in Brooklyn, including the cat. Clean up.
So today's full too. (Been awake, if not up, since 4. Just can't sleep. Making lists.)
Still. Yesterday around 5, the sun through the spiky blur of the treeline, smudged lavender under gray, condensing into tangerine at the horizon, past an amber field interrogated by the dark curls of feeding geese, & me alone in my car on an empty road, I spilled over.
Labels: moving
The Worst Mailman
Yes, I've upgraded (downgraded?) his status from Bad to Worst.
Previously on
The Bad Mailman: Shanna is distressed and puzzled as her packages are returned to sender marked "undeliverable" and her mail is withheld by the local PO a whole two weeks before the forwarding order was supposed to start. When at least two packages go MIA, she loses her patience in an unseemly manner.
In today's episode: Ten days after the order took effect, Shanna is dismayed to discover that she's still getting mail at the old address.
Labels: moving, the bad mailman
I'll miss this window. (But I'm trading it for three.)
Labels: moving, photos
One less thing to do
Labels: moving
Even slower . . .
. . . than packing books goes packing
notebooks.I just spent an hour reading my younger selves.
It was mostly excruciatingly embarrassing. But funny in parts.
& I found dozens of poems that were never typed up. (They'll probably stay that way tho!)
Labels: moving
This is the house. It's a duplex. We'll be on the left.
Labels: moving
No time to waste
Yet, & possibly predictably, that's what happens.
Endless back and forth with bank re: car loan. As soon as I hung up this morning (32 minutes on hold, thank you), I got an email asking me to please call at my earliest etc.
Several deliveries missed due to the Bad Mailman deciding to act EARLY on the freaking forwarding notice. Typical.
Do you know anybody at your electric company by name? I do.
UPS came so late today (just now) that I might as well not even go to work.
It's official: I hate moving.
Labels: moving, the bad mailman
Empty bookcases are:
a) creepy
b) sad
c) exciting
d) a great place to store your cat when you're not using him
Labels: moving
The Bad Mailman has done it again (& again, & again)
At least three (properly addressed) packages have been returned as "undeliverable" in the last month: a box of peppers from Texas (which sadly did not survive the return trip), Ivy's book
Mortal, & a package from Australia for S.
So much for postal service in 11238. Our forwarding order kicks in Jan 15. Here's hoping they get that right. I'm not really counting on it.
If you are in the (cherished) habit of sending me mail & need the new address, please email me.
*
Obviously I can't sleep.
At least it's Sunday. I can take a nap later.
*
I think the people who came to see the apartment yesterday are taking it.
I hope so.
It's tough to both pack and keep things neat for prospectives. I'm tired.
Labels: moving, the bad mailman
You can't see me because I am behind a stack of boxes
Boxes of dishes
boxes of towels
boxes of clothes
boxes of blankets & sheets
boxes of indeterminate things that might go to something we're not sure
boxes of video games
of paper
of photos
of gadgets
of cds
of books books books
Tuesday early I woke up and was gripped (no other word) with the realization that it's mid-December. (It felt it like two giant hands around my chest, squeezing.) And so I began to pack. To clean and sort and throw out and donate and pack. To wonder where many things came from, what they are, to have conversations with myself about necessities and simplifying and America. (Whenever I look at STUFF I think of America, some cluttered but shiny ideal.)
On Saturday some strangers are coming to look. On Sunday we'll have out-of-town guests. (And then Monday is my birthday.)
I feel a little as though I am browsing the pages of a catalog that is trying to sell me my own life.
Labels: moving
