We're here. Now that we're here I'm pretty sure it's not Rivendell. Elves are strange but they aren't weirdly scary. Back in able times when I worked at the coop, there were several customers we all ran away from. One was called Goggles, because she wore flight goggles when shopping. And reeked of garlic. And asked a thousand questions, then never bought anything. She is the neighbor directly across the hall from me. And was at my door at 8:45 this morning wanting "to meet my new neighbor." I declined to answer the door. This afternoon, in the rain, she sat outside my window while a woman cut her hair. I haven't found the drapes yet.
In fact, I've found dear little. As much careful packing and planning as I did, it was all worthless in the piling of belongings once it got here, and in the unpacking frenzy of enthusiastic friends. This may take months to sort out. There are only 2 closets here, no pantry and no lower cupboards in the kitchen. The bathroom is wonderfully big, and once the pile of unwieldy and non-bathroom things are cleared out of the shower, I may finally be able to use it. If I find any of the shampoo or soap I carefully packed in a special box of essentials that was emptied despite my yelling, "That's just to me! Leave it for me!" The kitchen is a bit of a mess, neither the fan or light work in the exhaust hood. The rusty refrigerator is ancient and turned up to max just keeps things close to cold, though the freezer seems alright. The toilet riser doesn't fit this unusually shaped toilet. I've emailed the office. Nothing can be done til Monday anyway.
Then there was the issue of the computer not working until I realized someone had pulled out and hooked up the old hard drive instead of the new.
And the phone company not showing up til late this afternoon instead of yesterday morning.
I hate this move about as much as this year's election.
Beest seems nonplussed by the whole thing. Certainly her appetite isn't off, she slept by my head as always, and she's slowly exploring the landscape. I wish I had her nonchalance.
Should I ever move again, I'm not going to bother trying to organize anything. Throw the towels in with the tools and soup. Pack the books and underwear together. It's not going to matter in the end.
Tide, Time and Poetry (Revisited)
2 days ago