more about me
and if i ever had any doubt that my not-soon-enough-ex-landlord is a fucknut? i found him *opening all my trash bags* and going thru my old letters, photos, financial statements - then not only denying it when i confronted him, but telling me it was my fault for putting the documents in his way.
i would have called the police, but i had to take the cat to the vet. and really... he can't do any harm to me with the documents - that's why i threw them out. *shakes head* just blows my mind that he's that much of a dickwad.
i can't wait to be out of there.
two more days, two more days, two more days...
keep chanting that, keep in mind that the packing up is the hardest part, requires the most thought, planning how to wrap and box and bag everything, and then it's mechanics, pure and simple. onto the truck, off of the truck. unpacking can take place at its own pace, as we pick and choose what to use to create *our* space together. thank you, Chica, for reminding me that there's no call to unpack every damn stick of stuff, just what we need.
and our new landlord thankfully does nothing by halves. he promised us a railing around the 'porch' - we have a door that opens onto the roof of the front porch. and a railing would have been sufficient for child and feline safety. he didn't just put up a railing. he put up a proper deck, flooring and all, a level wooden deck on top of the slightly-tilted-so-as-to-encourage-rain-water-to-run-away-from-the-house* porch roof.
we have a proper, enclosed deck space.
as tired as i know we'll be after all this, i'm pretty sure i'll be able to find that last little oomph to go to Home Despot and get a pretty little bistro table and chairs. ;)
we've packed all day, 10+ hours between both houses. (thank you, again but still not enough, Chica, for your help.) and my brain is so fried that i very nearly poured my wine into a Spongebob Squarepants sippy cup.
four more days... four more days... four more days...
and then we start. together. under the same roof. the start of the rest of our life together. :)
* an acquaintance, someone i met at a friend's party, told me a story (this was all years ago), about thinking that the builders in Slummerville were uniformly for shit, because it seemed noone could build a level porch on a three-decker. finally, it hit him that there was a purpose to the incline. mm. good thing he wasn't a builder, eh?