So far this week:
- We lost the cable boxes and modem. Yep. The packing system went to hell in a handbasket. Actually, it probably went to hell in a plastic tote. The cable guy showed up 3 hours late to hook up our precious cable/phone/internet, and we had no equipment. It wasn't my fault, really. I packed it. It just never got loaded on the truck. So after ransacking every gray plastic tote in the house at least 3 times, we found the cable boxes at the other house, after the cable guy had left. Fail. Fortunately, the hubby managed to hook it up just fine and by midnight we were once again connected to the big, wide, world outside of our home again.
- My hotspot device failed. The hotspot was the key piece of equipment that guaranteed that I could work through this whole moving adventure. Work=paycheck. The stupid thing refused to charge while plugged into my laptop, or anywhere else for that matter while I was using it, so every hour or less it just tossed me off the internet. Blast technology! I wanted to blast that thing through the window.
- The youngest kiddos got off of the new school bus crying because the bus driver cussed at them. The big guy walked them to the bus this morning and met the bus driver. He was super nice to the big guy.
- The landlady's attorney called and informed us that we could not have a third party present at the final walk through of the rental property. By third party, I mean the party that originally did the walk through of the property. I have never actually met the landlady. I have been fully cooperative with this person up to this point, but you know what? No. I will not give on this one. I want a third party (one who has seen the property prior to our move in) to do the walk through with us. She can pull up her big girl pants or I can pull down mine. My cooperation must still be packed. Probably in a gray plastic tote.
- The fire restoration company that attempted to clean our fabric items informed us that their fabric care expert did not find any evidence of lingering smoke, shrinkage, or general fabric damage. Really? Fabric care expert? Are they listed in the Yellow Pages? Where does one locate a fabric care expert? The house burned hot enough for the glue to melt in the plywood roof and the paneling upstairs to melt and drip off the wall, but our nylon/lycra/spandex/perma-press/polyester infused fabrics fared just fine? Um...I don't think so. Sure, the big guy always wore those 5XLT shirts like shrink wrap. My peachskin shirt always felt like a scratchy wool sweater. No. I don't think so. That tie-dye shirt? Yeah, that was solid blue before the fire. I'm unpacking my boxing gloves, people. We're fixin' to fight.
- The hot water tank was set to 'vacation'. That made for a pleasant first shower.
- Now the hot water tank is set to 'scald your hiney'. Need to adjust that. While I still have skin on my hiney.
- I have yet to locate my work notebook. Work notebook=time sheet. Time sheet=paycheck. Oh, curse you gray totes!
- We haven't found all of the phones yet.
- There is still a lockbox hanging on our doorknob. It eats knuckles. Hopefully the leasing company will be out soon to remove it.
I could go on and on. And you know what? It's only TUESDAY.
I was feeling very low today and wondering to myself when our lives would get back to normal, and then it came over me, like a foul stench- this is our new normal.
This is it. This is our life. This IS our normal. It's been 5 months and we still don't live 'at home'. We have a lot of new stuff, but it still doesn't feel like our stuff. And to be fair, much of it is not our stuff. Not our beds. Not our dishes. Not our towels. (I will NEVER buy white towels! I don't ever want to see white towels again.) Not our furniture. Not our home.
We have to redefine our normal.
I'll get to that next week.
Right after I unpack 40 gray plastic totes and umpteen boxes.