Tuesday, August 4, 2009

July 24, 2009

It is pouring. Rain is coming down in sheets and we have run two loads to the dump and are madly packing boxes. We purchased boxes from Uhaul. Fine, sturdy boxes. Can I pack this lamp?

No, wait to the last moment.

Can I pack the towels and bathroom things?

No, wait to the last moment.

Can I pack all the food and the rest of the glasses and plates and silverware and bowls?

No, wait to the last moment.

I am frustrated beyond belief. The truck and packers will be here in the morning. My mother's car has been sold through Craig's list. Someone is coming tomorrow at 7:30 to look at the shield-back chairs. It is a shame to sell them as they are beautiful, but they will not have room for them.

Another load to the dump.

The contractor is supposed to start the sewer project today. Seven days until closing. Rain is sleeting down.

Can I pack Dad's clothes?

Wait until the last moment.

The contractor arrives and we run another load to the dump. How can it be so dang hot when it is raining?

Crisis. I've packed the pots and pans. We have to go out for supper. Sweaty, dirty, dog tired, we tramp into Ted Turner's restaurant in Westborough. Service is as slow as blood through a clogged artery. We're afraid to say anything for fear of a stroke if we do. Our heads are nodding forward and I'm sure I hear a snore. The food finally arrives an hour later and I can hardly lift the fork. By the time we finish eating, I'm so stiff I can barely stand up. Into bed by 8:50pm.

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