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Frustrating Move
30 Auguest 2004 @ 9:42 p.m.
I sit here wishing for an internet connection with only one thought in mind � I wish to document the day. So here I sit and write with the intention of copying it into the journal as soon as possible.
I awoke with a start from a peaceful, naked, sleep at exactly 8 a.m. No alarm necessary as my major goal for the day was to pick up the moving van early. I tried to nudge Chewba awake, but we all know how his sleeping habits are. Ran downstairs to grab my phone and call up the moving company; was my truck ready? My advice to all is to keep copies of reservations complete with credit card receipts � since they had no record of my reservation when I dialed the number in the grey dawn.
Frustration set in when I tried once again to awaken Chewba. In fact, the frustration carried throughout the day beginning with his not understanding that I wanted to pack up and move this morning. Somehow I got him up and dressed as we drove to the company in the pouring rain. Rain. Moving day in the rain. Wonderful�or not.
An hour later the truck was packed, storage bin empty, car loaded. Everything looked as though we would make it. Even the sky began to clear up a bit as I finished loading in my personal belongings for the seven-hour drive.
Hours passed, miles driven, phone calls made, clouds disappear. Michigan gone, Wisconsin gone, into Minnesota I drove. Chewba behind the wheel of the truck, me in the car, we caravanned west in the modern covered wagon train searching for greener pastures and a positive future.
I made it on time to get the keys to the new place and work out the final paperwork. The apartment is mine. Mine.
We moved in all of the belongings, returned the truck, grabbed a few essentials from the store then retired back to unpack and arrange. Or rather, Chewba sit on his ass in front of the computer playing games while I lifted things, moved things around, etc. I asked him to do one thing for me � fix the lamp that came apart in the truck � though as I sit here in the �living room�, I notice the lamp is still in pieces and unusable.
I honestly don�t want him here right now. I don�t want to crawl into bed and get all comfy in the clean sheets in my very own bed and then have him breathe on me all night. I don�t want to wake up early tomorrow and have him messing up things as I finally get them arranged. I feel guilty for it, but I don�t want him here. I�m ready for some proper Red-alone-time where I can finally debrief the events of the summer, the move, the career change, etc.
