So, where has Cookie been in the last week?
Moving. Screaming at stupid hillbilly packers. And unpacking the mess that the hillbilly packers created.
Consider this my blog version of a message in a bottle, or Bloggle as I call it.
It all started last Monday when the husband packed up the car, and the dogs and headed for Baltimore, the Charm City, leaving me alone to deal with everything. That night I moved into a one year old Springhill Suites, where I found dried blood on the top sheet, and mold in the bathroom. After entertaining the Manager and his minion in my "suite"we received a substantial discount on the room.
Tuesday was spent with the packers, and once again I was treated to Packer Estil, a motormouth hillbilly who took great pains to announce "I AM A PACKIN' MACHINE...NOBODY PACKS IT FASTER THAN ME!"
After seeing him man handle a Mica Lamp like a football, I knew we were sunk. Our large Chinese export vase from 1889? Ruined after being packed by Estil in a box marked "Freaky Large Vase". Never mind that we listed it as a high value item. Estil slapped some craft paper around it and tossed it into a box.
Which leads me to the third item on the list: unpacking.
Our move filled a 53' semi, stem to stern, with 506 items, 465 items being boxes and the rest furniture or pieces that defied packing.
Despite this house being larger than our old house, unloading was an eight hour ordeal. At some point, the movers stopped moving two boxes that belonged in a bedroom, or the basement, or the living room, or the garage, and started mixing and matching boxes. So garage stuff ended up in the bedrooms and living room stuff ended up in the garage.
We are not amused.
And how do we unpack? Each box has to be located, checked off a second time and then opened. The packing paper has to be removed, flattened, and collected? Why? Because flattened packing paper takes up less room. Then we have to find a home for the items as they unpacked. Then the box has to be knocked dopwn and all of the tape has to be removed as the moving company will not recycle them if there is plastic box tape on the box. We get charged $1.25 for each box that can't be recycled.
So far we have unpacked about 100 boxes. The sun room is FULL of boxes, the breakfast porch is FULL of boxes, etc. and so on.
And God love and bless my husband because while I was trying to bring order to the kitchen that first night, he unpacked our bedroom and made our bed. Still, with 300+ boxes to go, it takes its toll on a person's mind.
So last night, with my husband at my side, and feeling overwhelmed after a solid week of turmoil, Cookie, that is I, had a good cry, followed by an emergency Xanax (provided by my doctor, who just moved himself) and ten hours of sleep.
I will return to regular blogging sometime late this week as unboxing my office is a new priority and a needed function to regain my sanity.