Change the he to she and yup, that’s Mrs Fringe. Proof that Nerd Child was able to predict the future.

This move has not gone smoothly.  In fact, I can say without hesitation this has been the most disorganized, chaotic, and s-l-o-w move I’ve ever made–and I’ve made many.

First there was the realization I was living in a clown car.  Seriously, we had ten times the amount of shit we should have been able to fit in the last apartment.  Then there was the fact that every time I lifted a hefty bag or moved a box, my back would cry.  And then the kicker, an early flu/virus season.  Art Child got sick, and then I caught it.  The first day I was sick, I happened to have a meeting with Art Child’s teachers. “Sick while moving? Oh no.” “No worries, I have a strong immune system, never more than a nuisance head cold.”  Mmm hmm.  What’s that about famous last words?  By the following night, I had 102° fever.  I’m still not completely recovered, but no one else has gotten sick, so I’m not contagious, and I am improving.  What I don’t have is stamina.  Yanno, that trait needed to pack, move, and unpack.

We have been staying in the new apartment for the last six nights, but still have some miscellaneous crud to move up here, and then turn in the keys to the old apartment.  Every morning I think, we should be able to knock this out by the end of the day, and every afternoon, round about noon, I think, oh-my-gawd-I’m-dying-I-can’t-do-one-more-thing.  A model of efficiency, I tell ya.

Above, the saving grace.  Big boy sneakers.  My godson has come the last couple of weekends, to help with heavy lifting, shlepping, and bringing bags o’ crud to the basement.  Man Child, bless his Herculean heart, also came last week. He took two days off from school to help sort and pack, and then did the majority of the heavy furniture lifting and moving.  Mr and Mrs Smitholini also pitched in, putting up curtains and ceiling fans, general assistance and wondering what the fuck happened to me.

We did get some new pieces of furniture.  I have a desk! A real desk! And it’s all mine, bwahahaha!  And a new kitchen table, because mine didn’t fit in our new, smaller dining space.  Luckily, Husband is in the furniture business, so when we realized the new table wobbles, he was able to fix it in no time.

It is all getting done though.  The first several days were like camping.  The stove wasn’t hooked up, the kitchen sink didn’t work, the dishwasher (hooray!) was sitting in the living room, and did I mention that my refrigerator died the night before we moved it?  The wireless internet didn’t reach the living room (where my desk is), and then it was spotty.  Finally I have a reasonable connection, for the moment I’ll pretend those cables aren’t slithering down the hall floor waiting to trip me.

Little Incredibly Dumb Dog is very unhappy with the move and attendant chaos, and has been displaying her displeasure by peeing on the floor.  Yesterday she decided it was time to meet the new neighbors. While I was cleaning, she snuck under the divider of our shared terrace, and walked into my next door neighbor’s living room.  My bell rang, she came running and barking as usual.  It was my neighbor, reporting the visit.  Are you kidding me?! We had the same set up downstairs, she never did that.

Almost done.  That’s what I keep saying.  Well, that and knowing I’m getting myself a new tank as soon as possible.  Besides, with the new, higher apartment comes a better view.  This was our first morning, not a bad way to wake up–and no boxes on the horizon.