15 May – the appointed day dawned murky and threatening, which I suppose is what you want for an epic endeavor like an international move, right?
The movers had said they’d be there at 8, traffic permitting, which means “around 10 but you should have pants on by 8 just in case,” a hardship for nightbirds like us. We locked Lilu in the backyard so she couldn’t escape, which meant the movers couldn’t use the back door so we had to unload the Evil Shed, which is why the living room was full of tires and gardening equipment. I’m sure the movers were very impressed (cough *whitetrash* cough).
Based on the spreadsheet we sent them, they thought this truck would hold all our worldly possessions. It sort of did, on the principle of “throw it in the truck and shut the door real fast.” The giant potted palm tree is still in a snit about that.
Once the house was empty they drove off (in that giant truck, through the tiny medieval streets of the UU downtown campus, heh) to load up the contents of DrBob’s office. My job was to clean like a crazy person (technically you don’t have to clean the house when you move out, but you know I couldn’t stop myself, because hi, I’m a crazy person), and drug the cat. By the time DrBob came back it was nearly 8pm, and she was staggering, but not sleeping. We loaded up the cleaning stuff and took off, cursing the stupid vet and her stupid Diazepam that left our cat awake to experience four solid hours of the thing she hates most. She didn’t do the mournful, deep-voiced keening that is her usual car behavior, but she meowed urgently the whole trip – wait, lemme rephrase that – THE WHOLE DAMN 4-HOUR TRIP, like a talky drunk: “I gotta tell you something! Hey – I gotta tell you something. You listening? Listen, ‘cuz I gotta tell you something.”
So that was a nightmare drive and we arrived exhausted in the middle of the night and plunked Lilu down in her new home and she staggered around yelling “Listen! Hey listen, I gotta tell you something, MEOW.” It occurred to me to put her in the bed we’d been using because it’d be soft and smell like us and that might comfort her? So we did that, and that’s when we found out what she’d been trying to tell us the whole time:
“I hafta PEEeeeEEE!”
So yeah. Not the best day. Or the best night, since DrBob had to find another blanket. In an empty house.
Song du jour of the day: Go Right Ahead, by The Hives.