It seems as if all I ever talk about is moving

I sort every box. Mark it. Toss the trash, drop off the donations and then take my three or four boxes of stuff upstairs and put it away. And that pretty well fills up an entire day. And oddly, I like it. I know it’s busy work and anyone with an opposing thumb could do it….I probably could close my eyes and do just as well! Anything that I don’t totally love/need is not getting dragged up and down stairs (about five stories total).

It takes a LOT of time. Of course, a lot of what I’m taking honestly doesn’t need to go. How many casseroles DO I need? How many sets if dishes do I really need? (There the good, the everyday, the Easter, the Thanksgiving and the Christmas sets). I hate coffee mugs, so out they go.

My old kitchen tableware is just plain ugly, so I bought up place settings of vintage/antique sterling. Not a piece matches but I like their looks when I set the table. My glassware is the same….vintage/antique and nothing matches. I just like the way it looks. My china hutch hasn’t made the move yet, so all of that stuff is in boxes. I can hardly wait for the hutch and the table to go….then it will really feel like I’ve accomplished something!

Finally got the Victorian couch and two chairs totally cleaned. They look brand new, so no need to recover them.
I have a fainting couch that probably possibly does need recovering in a claret velvet. It goes into the guest bath, which will probably never get used. I just want to use it because it looks really cool.

Dropped by my squatter’s place today to offer her $100 to get out by the 1st….all her junk, give me the key and give me a letter telling me that she is moving out and leaving my property. (The police found over stolen 300 items in her bedroom). She claimed she was asleep and didn’t know anything about them.

Since she doesn’t SLEEP in that room, the deputies couldn’t prove that she DID know about the stolen property. (Although in a three room place, I don’t see how that would fly.) So I’m standing at the front door, knocking away. No answer. My son comes up to see what I’m doing and I tell him “Well, I have cash in my pocket to give this woman, but I guess she isn’t interested.” When I got home, I had a dozen phone calls from her, telling me to call her right back; she just wasn’t able to get to the door in time to talk to me. Really. So did I call her? That would be a no. I’m not driving back across town (all two miles of it) to talk to her. And I’ll keep my money in my hind pocket.

I checked on our rental (have learned my lesson re squatters). No one is living there. I have information and applications available on site and I am still getting calls at home where the wannabe renters leave me an unintelligible phone number. I have it listed on craigslist and have gotten dozens of emails, asking if it still available. (I go to craigslist everyday and change the available date every. single. day.) Some people need to just live at home.

Watching Bridezilla tonight. For some reason, it totally amuses me to watch all this drama.


3 thoughts on “It seems as if all I ever talk about is moving

  1. What one thing was “great” today? I applaud all your efforts!
    Keep your spirits up and your health good!
    Love you dearly,

  2. I hate…I loathe…I despise coffee mugs…with every fibre of my being…and yet, my mother loves, adores, worships and collects them…go damnfigure…I’m all for throwing them out…the battle of coffee mugs must be a metaphor for something…but I’m just too tired to figure it out…anyoldway…one year I moved from Gainesville to Pensacola to Denver to Virginia Beach to Pensacola and back to Gainesville…thanks to the United States Navy…fun fun fun…another year from Gainesville to Virginia Beach to Honolulu…I am a pro…moving…it is not for sissies! As a Navy brat and Navy wife I have moving down to a fine art…when boy and I moved to Las Vegas…I was able to fit everything I was going to use into my Jeep…the rest was stored at my mother’s place…I have since pared it all down…the hardest thing was the books…I donated a library full to my College, a recovery house for men released from prison and working on their GED’s and the local thrift store that employs men who are rehabbing alcoholics…I miss my books…but I know I did the right thing…

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