his way. The refrigerator guys left, the cable guy showed up and turned on the cable (though all the tvs were at the old house so we couldn’t test it), and then Fred stopped by to get some money. I hung out at the new house for a while longer, and then Fred called around 1 to tell me that the cleaning lady was there, the moving guys weren’t but a third of the way done with the house, and we needed to get the cats and bring them to the new house so the cleaning lady could clean in the bathroom where they were. Poor kitties. She happened to walk in the bathroom where they were, not knowing they were there, and they totally freaked out. Because, of course, their instinct is to hide under something when they see strangers, and there was nothing in the bathroom or closet for them to hide under. Since we had only two cat carriers and five cats, we had to make three trips. It was a thrill, believe me, to load a cat in each carrier and drive from the old house to the new, toss them (well, not TOSS. Gently place, really) in the upstairs bathroom, and go back for another load o’ cat. On the last trip, Fred loaded up Spot and left me at the house with the movers and cleaning lady, so I could begin vacuuming the rooms as they emptied. The movers, by the way, moved slower than molasses. They’d move a piece of furniture and then stand and discuss it for several minutes ("Remember when you moved that dresser? That was cool.") before moving a single box. It was after two by the time they filled up their truck (of COURSE they brought a truck that was too small. They’re PROFESSIONALS, after all), moved everything that wouldn’t fit in the truck into the garage – which was packed to the gills by the time everything was in it – and headed for the new house. "It’ll go faster," Fred assured me. "Unloading always goes faster." At the new house, I went upstairs into the bathroom and tried to cuddle with a cat or two. They weren’t having it, not at all. Spot and Fancypants were huddled together behind the toilet. Miz Poo, Spanky, and Tubby were hiding in the cabinet under the sink. I sat and read for half an hour or so until my ass grew chilled from the floor. When I wandered back downstairs, I think they’d unloaded two boxes and a chair, and were ready for their once-hourly naps. Anyway. We went back to the old house to pick up the computers and everything else we’d left sitting around (plants, for one), and then he went back to the new house and I waited at the old house for the carpet cleaners. Having the carpets professionally cleaned was part of the contract, did I mention? The carpet cleaners arrived, and checked out the house. "Do you want scotchguarding or (something to do with taking odors out of the carpet)?" the one carpet guy asked. I did all I could not to laugh in his face – scotchguarding and odor removal stuff was NOT in the contract, thankyou – wrote them a check, and then went back to the new house. Sometime after 5, the first truckload was unloaded. Fred accompanied the movers back to the old house for the second (and last) load, while I stayed at the new house and began unpacking random boxes full of kitchen stuff. They were back in a little more than an hour with the rest of the stuff, and they were done unloading around 8:00. We ordered a pizza and went upstairs to start setting up the beds and to find our clothes – important, I thought, since I didn’t want to wear a t-shirt and shorts to closing on Tuesday. We let the cats out, and they did that dark-eyed slinking-around thing that cats do when they’re freaked. Miz Poo was over her freakishness pretty quickly, but the others are spazzes, and while Spot disappeared under the bed to not be seen again for a day or so, Spanky would hide under the bed for a while, then pop out and look around, and then – you could actually watch it happen – a big cartoon question mark would pop up over his head, and he’d think "Hey, this isn’t my home!", and he’d zoom back under the bed. Fancypants, oh Fancypants was another story altogether. He walked around and around, letting out a high-pitched, very annoying, meow. Constantly. We’d say "Fancypants, please SHUT THE FUCK UP!" and he’d stop for ten seconds and then begin again with a vengeance. After eating dinner – pizza has never tasted so good – we washed up, popped out our contacts, and then went to bed.]]>
07/30/2001