When I said, weeks ago, to many people, that I wanted to move into our new place "slowly over many days" there was some undercurrent of truth to the statement. But for whatever reason...because the new place was being worked on, because we didn't have enough boxes, because I'm lazy, and a liar, that's not really what happened and we spent all weekend long moving. This process included roughly a bazillion trips back and forth to the new house in both our cars packed to the ceiling with material goods. We should be put in jail for the amount of goods that were transported, or at least should have to pay some sort of tax for harboring so many unnecessary items. Like all the Maxim magazines you ever got in the mail, J. Like those. But, with Dan's help (thank you thank you thank you Dan!!!), we moved. Now we live in an cute house packed wall to wall with our joint furniture and books and other things with sharp edges that you can easily cut your eye on or maybe stub your toe. That happens when your house is packed wall to wall. And oh yes! Did I mention we have no electricity?
Our landlord called last week and explained how the town has issued some recent statute and long story short, because she had upgraded her system she has to get the power lines buried. She just found out about this, and has been completely apologetic, but we didn't really mind. After all, this procedure should happen early this week and all should be back to normal. Until then, we figured - what, one or two nights with no power? We did it during the ice storm. Plus, there is one outlet that works, and to that J brilliantly plugged in an extension cord so that we had three, strong lamps to light the house. Not bad at all, considering it's not very big. However, peering into the dim chaos of our belongings with any hope of organizing proved too big a challenge for me last night after all the weekend's activity. We ate some Wendy's on the floor of the new place, locking the dogs into the bedroom with a baby gate. It was silent. No television or radio. To entertain ourselves we'd place french fries right outside the gate in order to frustrate Mina. She tried to get them by pushing both her paws and tongue through the little openings. Maybe we won't need a TV, ever.
We both slept well but this morning was a new challenge. We couldn't shower because there's no hot water so I brushed my teeth and got dressed slowly in the bedroom. The nights are still cold here, and I felt like I was at sleepaway summer camp. When you're dirty, but can't take a shower every day and you're sitting there putting your underwear on freezing to death and sort of wishing you could die. This is a different feeling than waking up on a Sunday morning, having nothing to do, throwing on whatever's around and taking the dogs out before getting back in bed and reading the paper. That is a different sort of not-showering. It's classier, more indulgent.
Furthermore, I managed to hurt myself, badly, several times before leaving for work. Interesting how when your home is packed wall to wall with items like random drawers and buckets full of statuettes that getting through any doorway is a significant challenge. This might be why I slammed my head into the edge of the kitchen cupboard after getting back from walking Cecilia. The walk was a bright spot. She needed some exercise, although she does have a new fenced-in yard where she can frolic all she pleases. And eat tall grass. J and I watched in wonder yesterday as she waltzed around grazing like a cow. "She's gonna throw up," he said. "What are we gonna do?" I replied. Although I'm as worried about that as he is. Dog puke is particularly hard to get out of rugs. How do I know? Oh, because I spent ALL DAY YESTERDAY scrubbing it out of the expensive fibers at our previous home. The fact that she has a sensitive stomach does not make me love her less, but I do wish she could speak English and I could explain to her that eating certain things - grass, plastic - will certainly wreak havoc on her system.
I decided I needed a present and I decided that present should be a toffee nut latte from Starbucks, which, as I've mentioned is now on my route to work. I got a great spot on Franklin and found a lone quarter for the parking meter. I'd only be inside a minute, but they are unmerciful in Chapel Hill. Upon approaching the meter, however, I discovered that someone had left twenty minutes on the clock. Twenty free minutes. That small, but beautiful, victory on such a morning...I nearly wept. Here was my reward.