(Note to self: edit for length. Be brutal.)
WHOA. Remember how I was… erm, did I blog this? Or just complain about it to everyone I spoke to in meatspace? I couldn’t pack, because the movers were going to do it for us. I couldn’t organize things, because we needed so many of them up until the last day. I’d go through a room and make decisions about everything, and if it was to be gotten rid of, I did that, eventually, somehow, mostly. But if it was to be kept, it had to go back where I’d found it. So none of the rooms ever looked done, so I just kept going through them and trying to get them “ready.” Somehow.
So Wednesday, the 26th, I guess that was the last time I had a coherent thought. That thought was “I’m going to kill that kid.” See, Ignatz’s room was a royal mess, I mean you wouldn’t believe… I told him several times to get it organized, and Wednesday was the last chance and I made him stay up there till 4:00, but of course I was too busy to supervise, so he took off to his friend’s house and I went up there and knew true despair.
And that is why, on the last day before the movers came, I spent altogether too much time in Ignatz’s room, and didn’t manage to get enough other things done. I mean, I thought I did a lot, but there are so many things you need right up until the last minute. The kids’ rooms were ready when the movers arrived at 7:30 (A.M. in the MORNING.), and I thought that would keep them busy for at least an hour, but no. These guys were professionals, and they were wicked fast. Oh man, I tried so hard to get rid of stuff – remember? Remember the dratted flea market and the friend selling things on ebay and the trip to the charity shop and the boxes of stuff donated to the tiny local library and the endless, endless trips to the recycling bins? And still we are unpacking single shoes, two-inch pencil stubs, empty boxes, lids with no bottles, and dirty Q-tips. Argh.
Friday was more of supervising the movers while trying to stay out of their way. I remember very little about that day. Or Saturday. Or Sunday. We stayed in Jagenau. I read Percy Jackson books. I jittered.
I had a million things to do on that last day in Dorfen, and do you think I can remember one of them? Of course not. Oh – fetch and drug the cat, that was one thing. She was willing enough to be fetched, NOT happy to be hanging out at Oma & Opa’s house, and how do you think she felt about being drugged? We dissolved the pill in water and put it in a syringe the vet had given us for that purpose – oh right, so seeing the vet was another thing we did on the very last day – and Ignatz and I held her while Oma zooped the water at the back of her throat.
The thing about that approach is, you can never be sure how much of the drug actually went into the cat, instead of all over your hands. But eventually we got our answer: not enough. Also, it’s a beruhigungsmittel, not a schlaftablett – something to calm her, not to make her sleep – we should have asked for the sleep-thing. She was crying in the basket, which was breaking the concentration DrBob needed for driving, so after about an hour on the road, we relented and let her out. Out of the basket, not out of the car. And she crawled all over the place, not manic, but persistent. She curled up to sleep on the Sniglet’s lap and slid off, taking his blanket with her and waking him up. Several times. She bedded down between the boys for oh, about a minute. Also several times. Tried to climb up on the dashboard and into DrBob’s lap, which was not allowed, and eventually settled down to sleep on my lap.
My particular responsibility for the trip was to stay awake during the drive, to keep DrBob alert and entertained. That’s hard enough in the dark, in a moving car, at 3 in the morning, but add a warm sleeping cat on my lap and I was doooooomed. Poor DrBob. I did wake up a lot, but that didn’t help him much, and only served to make me even more of a zombie the next day.
Other than that the drive was uneventful. For which I must not forget to be very, very grateful ourfatherwhoartinheaven, thanksalotamen. Because in such a situation, you don’t want a lot of events, and that’s the truth.
So. What-all happened on that first day will have to be covered tomorrow, because EGAD, did you notice how long this is? I’d be amazed if anyone were still reading this.
Song du jour of the day: Ghost Riders in the Sky, by Johnny Cash.