I had forgotten how hard on the body it is to move.
Or maybe it is just the fact that the last time I moved I was 40 and now I am…..not 40.
Oh FINE! I am 53 years old. We all know that. And my 53 year old body just isn’t liking all that toting of boxes and lifting of bales and shifting of furniture. And especially not my right hand, or more to the point the nerves to my right hand that run through the Carpal tunnel.
Oh yes, I just love to wake up in the middle of the night and find that someone has grafted a piece of wood in the shape of my right hand to my right wrist. You know that feeling, when you wake up in the darkness and your hand has gone so profoundly to sleep that you wonder if it took a sleeping pill before bed and should not be operating heavy machinery. So it is back to wearing the brace at night. Which I hate almost as much as I hate waking up with numb fingers.
Whine, whine, whine.
And just when I think that I have gotten everything in place and I can relax and enjoy my new home….
I go downstairs to the basement and look at my work area.
And I see that there are more boxes to be unpacked and gone through. Are they breeding down there, making little boxes? Holy Mary and all the saints what a mess!!! I try to avoid even looking into the room that will eventually be “the media center”. In fact you cannot even walk in there at the moment because there are rugs piled there and lamps and boxes and I thought I might have seen Jimmy Hoffa’s feet sticking out from under something.
All the yarn has been released from it’s plastic bin prisons and so all is right with the world.
Now if I could just find my pens!
And that Netflix DVD that I have had for about 6 weeks.
Of course none of the DVD players are yet hooked up so it doesn’t really matter.
I have a feeling that you all are going to get really sick of hearing about the move LONG before I get sick of telling you about it.