So, it seems I have dropped off the grid.
Moving is difficult, and then being down with some bad burrito food poisoning put me over the top. Or maybe I should say, under the top.
Luckily, I had my neighbors. And my mom.
Diane dropped by to check on my move Monday night, and found me in my family room, all the furniture removed, lying on the floor. I am usually the “I can do it myself” kind of person, but with the time constraints of the move-out date and being sick, I was relieved to have someone step in and offer some help.
She packed up my kitchen pantry, running over to her house to get some more boxes.
She brought me some ginger tea, and toast to help me in my dilemma. And kept me company.
The second pod was being filled still, and Diane turned over some canned goods for Gene to throw in. Earlier in the day my son-in-law Jeff, along with my 14-year old helped load some of the heavy stuff and then Diane continued to help into the evening.
I thought for sure I would be better by Tuesday morning, but nonetheless, emailed the Realtor and asked for a later time in the day to turn the keys over.
Monday night, sleeping on the floor in my extra padded closet was not so good, and once again Diane stepped in and brought over an air mattress to lessen the truly camp-out conditions at my house.
That did help.
Tuesday morning and feeling better did not arrive. So when neighbors, Sandie and Rob showed up, we gladly accepted their help. Rob got his gloves and helped Gene load his truck up with the garage shelves we had taken apart. My mom called early to see if I could use her help and she gladly drove the hour down to clean my refrigerator and kitchen, and help make the final sweep of all the bathrooms and cupboards. Sandie packed up our two cars, Gene’s pickup, and then we had to prevail on the use of Diane’s garage for all the over-flow–a queen sized box spring, patio furniture, the lizard, bro-mating in her cage, and plants, and an office chair, and….the list goes on. Even stuff that needed to go to the dump got stacked into Diane’s much needed garage–right next to Lars’ old Volvo.
I still did not feel well, but continued to move things and we said good bye to our “house” and drove to my mom’s–I drove the Tundra with the dog in her crate and numerous other stuff, hillbilly style, and Gene drove the Yukon packed down with more stuff.
It was a long drive for me, and I was counting the miles. But we made it, and Gene unloaded the dog and then took his truck load to the site up North.
I crawled into my mom’s house to recover.
It was Tuesday afternoon.
I moved into my old bedroom, and curled up on the bed to feel a bit out of time.
And I was thankful for the hand of the Lord in my life, in the likes of my neighbors and mom.
Of course I was not sure where all my clothes were, and after four days of finally finding recovery, I found out that Gene had taken them to the work site and unloaded them there.
Today I feel good, and tomorrow is Christmas. My childhood home feels like home again. Which is comforting at this time of transition and season of joy.
