Monday, October 25, 2010
It's all good fun, until someone loses an eye
And then, of course, it's just one-eyed fun.
(note here, nobody lost an eye during this move ... the rest? Yeah, it happened. And it hurt)
Did I mention that we were moving house? I think I must have, but then again I'm elderly and forget things a lot. Anyhow, the reason I haven't been here is that we've been moving. And this is part of the tale of that move.
It's also all good fun until you break a toe.
Which I did. Couldn't wear a shoe for a month, which is so much fun in the Pacific Northwest during the "wet and cold" season. No, really. It's been special.
It starts being less fun when you drop a heavy dresser upon the toe that only has half a nail and it breaks the nail and drives it into the nailbed and then there's blood and guts everywhere.
That part wasn't fun at all. (ok so there weren't guts. Toes don't have guts. But if they did, believe me, they would have been everywhere.)
I sorta thought I was ok, and then I got into the bath seeing I was bruised head to toe and utterly exhausted and my kid went, "Um. There's sort of a lot of blood on your foot."
I said, "oh, no, there isn't." But she assured me that there was and it was sort of dripping everywhere and was alarming her.
I acknowledged the wound, told her where to get bandages and tape and so forth.
She patched me up and asked "do I have to take you to the hospital?" which struck me at the time as being hilariously funny, as ten year olds don't usually "take" someone to the hospital.
I declined to seek medical assistance. It's still all fucked up, about a month later, but I still think I chose the right thingie. They would have bandaged it up, said "there's nothing we can do; give it time" and then charged the taxpayers $2300 or something for it.
Oh yeah ... and it's all good fun until you fall down the back stairs of the house. I thought there were five. There were, in fact, six. I did a total swan dive and landed with most of my weight (which isn't very much, but is still too much to land on) on my right knee, which still isn't ok.
So um. The move to the new house is done. DONE. I have three bins of fleece still at the old house and I'm not entirely sure I'm not going to just leave it there.
This was THE WORST MOVE EVAR. I'm startled that I'm still functioning, quite frankly.
I've been beaten, I've been raped and I've been robbed. I've miscarried a much-wanted child and I've had two breast tumours. (And please don't start to feel sorry about me for those -- I've gotten past all of it and I'm just fine.) But I really don't think I've ever had a worse experience than this house move.
We are in the new house. It's fantastic. We have way too much shit and there are boxes to the fucking ceiling; it's an utter disaster and will be for at least another month.
I have a kitchen that works and I've been cooking, quite a lot. We have a washer and a dryer. The bath is big and huge and wonderful and we have ENDLESS hot water. And there's a dishwasher.
I have a big pine tree right outside the window of my bedroom. It's pretty as all-get-out. I have a DISHWASHER. (I know I said that before but I'm so in love with it I had to mention it again.)
And there are no rats. None. At all. A spider or two, but no rats. I feel safe here. I am going to miss the wildlife, but it's a small price to pay for safety.
So ... welcome home to me. This is a peaceful place and there is room for me to work.
Regular blogging will commence shortly. And the Etsy store will be open again tomorrow.
Right now, I'm-a-gonna go lie in the bath. And maybe add hot water.