Don’t get sick when you’re trying to move.

Ugh.

Everything that can go wrong will, anyway. So being sick on top of it makes it ten times worse.

Okay, so my son left on Sunday last week, Monday I had to finish packing. Tuesday movers came. We drove out to new home 3 hours away after 3 hours of packing, unloaded 3 hours. And then I collapsed at my daughter and SIL’s house for dinner. I got sick on Saturday before my son left–earache, sore throat. By Monday, I was running a fever and chills, coughing my head off, and that lasted through Wednesday. I had driven back to Crawford to clean the house, and OMG, finish packing. I didn’t realize I’d still left so much behind. I never want to ever move again. Had a horrible fever Wednesday on the 3-hour drive back, freezing to death and had the heater on 80 degrees, but my face was burning up.

Then for the rest of the week and weekend, I’ve been sick, lost my voice at the beginning and still have no voice, still coughing like crazy, and worn out. I’m still unpacking though, and making real progress.

But really, all this needs to be in a story. They gave me the wrong phone number, which I gave out to people who had to call me, like the Realtor for selling my house, my kids, and all they are getting is a disconnected number. Because of a thermal barrier in the roof, my cell phone wasn’t working, so nobody who had that number could call, and I couldn’t call out until the land line was put in. So I called my old number and call forwarding is to some other number, not the one I have or the other they had given me. But some other completely different number. And the woman said they can’t change it. Just tell people my new number. Like I didn’t do that and they changed it on me again?

living room of boxes

Then I try to get into my collective mailbox. Doesn’t that sound like the Borg??? And I can’t get it open. There are tons of clusters of them. All have a number that is mine. So I’m like so maybe I have the wrong one, but the keys work in one, the box won’t open though. My daughter tried to get it open. I called the sales manager for phone numbers and when she came over with a sheet, she and I went over and she tried to open the mailbox door. So it wasn’t just me.

Tanner and the tape–my daughter and I were unpacking boxes when I noticed Tanner had tape on his hind and front leg and we had to stop for a photo shoot. Tanner doesn’t mind. He’s a big baby.

I spend all day calling the post office. Remember the part about being sick and having no voice? It’s awful. And I certainly didn’t want to have to drive into town to try and find the post office, and then stand in line for half an hour, and then get the run around. So I kept trying to get through to them while I was trying to also find out what I could about the water dept and trash pick up, which I desperately need with all the boxes that need to be recycled. Busy, busy, busy. Call water dept. Then call post office. Busy, busy, busy. Call trash pick up. Then call PO. Busy, busy, busy. Then I call again and I get through…well, it’s ringing, and ringing and ringing. And I’m thinking, OMG, I dialed the wrong number. Look at number. Nope, it’s the PO. Then I get a real person. In my croaky voice, I manage to explain my dilemma.

“Oh, it’s probably sand in the hinges. Use WD-40.”

Huh????? Hey, I moved from the country to the city to learn that my mailbox needs WD-40 to work because of sand? There are no beaches anywhere near here. Maybe an hour and half away??? lol

Okay, so I take my can of WD-40, thankfully, that I’d brought with me, and spray the tar, or sand, out of it. And voila! The box WON’T open.

I call the PO back. Busy, busy, busy.

I normally am a very patient person, but when one thing stacks on top of another, and another, and another and so forth, I still try to remain patient, taking one issue at a time when I can’t resolve another, and I kept just unpacking boxes.

I have to say that even when I was trying to line shelves and this kept happening, I would line a couple of shelves and do something else for a while, because fighting with contact paper is not fun. Funny sometimes–in a hysterical way. It kept grabbing my hair.

Contact Paper, Copyrighted, really?

Okay, so after another hour of busy signals at the PO, I get hold of someone and they said to come to the PO. Why???? The key is working. I just can’t get the stupid box open. Go out and fix it. It’s YOUR box. Of course, I didn’t say this. I’m very nice, in a horribly croaky way, and just said, “Okay.”

So….when my daughter came to pick me up for dinner, we went back to the mailbox and while she waited for me to try it again, I yanked it so hard, I nearly fell, and voila, it opened!!!! And all my mail smelled like….guess. Yes! WD-40.

I tried it again today, need to really oil it inside, but no mail, and it did open after a struggle.

The trash guys are supposed to leave off a recycle bin before Thursday, so hope it gets here tomorrow or I’ll just put out the boxes on the curb. And hope they don’t ignore it.

And so that’s my move. My advice is don’t get sick when you move. It’s really the pits. Oh, and I opened the door to try and see if I could get phone reception with my cell phone when I had an incoming call and Max ran out the door. No!

Now, Ms. No Voice is hollering for Max to come back, and he’s chasing after a woman taking a walk, and I’m hollering, and he’s ignoring me, but she’s getting farther away and I’m now running after him and…when  you have a bad cough, running isn’t the greatest thing to do. But he decided she was getting too far away, so he turned to come back home and into my arms, silly dog. Did scare me though.

That’s my move. How has your week been???

Sunrise and Fog

Even in the city, I’m finding fun shots to take. Oh, and I’m back to edits, this time on Alpha Wolf Need Not Apply. I started them today. After that, I’ve got to get started on the new wolf book.

Have a super great week!!! Mine’s getting better and better!

Terry

“Giving new meaning to the term alpha male where fantasy is reality.”

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