More sprinklers and windows

I did finally get the guy to correct the sprinklers to the back of the condo, so water no longer covers my roof or comes in my windows at 6 am from my sprinkler system. However, one of the houses behind me has these ambitious sprinkler heads that send water up about 30' in the air. It's like being at the Bellagio - pretty to watch. The bad part is, it happens early (and again later in the afternoon, probably again at night, too) and the heads are not properly adjusted. One hits his downspouts. I hope they are his downspouts, anyway. I know in my old house my neighbor's system used to hit first his, then mine. That was annoying.

I will adjust to the early noise much faster than I would have to the water coming in at 6 am. I know I will, since I have done it before.

My patio continues to be watered at 6 am and 7:15 pm daily. Every day. My patio is always wet. I have called three times about it now. First, to tell them I had company and we were chased off the patio. Second, to tell them that I just spent a small fortune getting a retractable awning, and it's useless to me (I bought it through the builder) because my patio is always wet. Third, just to remind them that it is still wet all the time. Also, I still do not have any outside lights. They have a photocell, but it doesn't seem to cell photos or whatever it is supposed to do.

I am very happy in my condo, and I am extremely nice to the people I call to fix things here. Really, I am. (You should see the guys they send out - I am not going to jeopardize that parade!)

OK, that leads me back to the awning. Remember the smartasses who were here last Monday? They returned on Sunday. They installed the awning this time. Last time it was just the brackets. These guys are adorable, and they know it. They are cute with it, not annoying. I gave them a few glasses of ice water - it was really hot and humid out there. They said they love me. They should.

The smartassier one, the one who really made me laugh, was showing me how to work the awning. It's easy enough. When he got done, he looked me in the eyes, and said, "Any questions? Any issues? Any problems? Any wishes? Any desires?"

That was just cruel, but it made me laugh anyway!

Since our heat index today was 104, I might not have wanted to sit on my patio. Being the heat freak I am, I might well have wanted to, and resent not having the choice. I do have a hammer, once I bring it from the old house. Those sprinkler heads can be quite fragile. I know, since I replaced them regularly for 30 years. People just loved to run over the ones I had that were close to the driveway. I still don't know why they were placed there. Lawnmowers sometimes decapitate them. I know a hammer will do the job. If not, I have a tire iron. I bet I could pry it right out of the ground in one piece.

Tomorrow morning I won't wake up to water on a downspout. I will wake up to a sleep clinic tech knocking on my door at 5:45 am. He called a little while ago to see if I had any questions. I asked if there is a window in the room. He said yes, but it's blocked off. I wonder what I need for that? Box cutter? Goo Gone? They are not happy with my normal sleeping hours at the clinic. What time do you usually go to sleep? About 2 am. Well, we are going to get you up at 5:45 and I need you in bed for 6 hours first (best offer I have had all week!)...I don't even want to do the math.

This will probably be the warmest night all summer here. I have to spend it in a sleep clinic, indoors, no window open over my head, let alone three of them, with some CPAP freak in the next room with a TV on. They expect me to sleep?

Halcion, take me away!

 

Dogs, sprinklers, and boxes

The title describes my life lately! I am moved, mostly. The movers came on Sunday and took the furniture over for me. I did the rest. Well, it's not completely done yet, but it will be soon. I figure I have to check on my old house every day and spend some time here, since I have things still here. Such as the 19-year-old cat.

I realize I am having trouble with sentence structure; probably my spelling is weak too. You try sleeping under a window that the sprinklers hit at 6 am. Not only do they hit the window, but the water comes in. Don't ask how I know that. The water also goes as high as the roof. Anyone who lives in a drought area is welcome to contact my sprinkler company. I am not allowed to touch the controls.

On Monday my friend Cindy came over to help me set up the kitchen. She was clearly too tired herself to do much, so I made us some dinner and we went out on the patio. It was my first time out there, to tell the truth, thanks to a wasp nest I found the second day.

We sat down, and before we could take a bite of food, the sprinklers went off. We made a hasty decision to eat indoors.

While she was there, before we went outside to get watered, she pointed out to me that there were two young men on my patio with power tools. She asked me if I was concerned, and I said no. She finally convinced me to ask them what they were doing. They were a couple of real smartasses, and I have to say I enjoyed the repartee. They were installing the brackets for my retractable awning. They will be back tomorrow to finish up, and I need to be there. One of them used to install sprinkler systems for a living, and he and I need to have a chat.

Several times a day the dogs and I walk around the pond at the nature preserve. The preserve is about 25 yards from my front door, and I love having that. I don't even mind the Canadian geese who walk in my back yard in the mornings.

Molly is doing quite well, although I had to give her up to 6 mg of prednisone a day, when her normal dose is 1 mg. Today she has had only 3 mg and seems pretty perky. Baby seems distressed today, but maybe she wanted to walk 4 times around the pond today. They are both almost as tired as I am. I walk them about once an hour, maybe two, so they are comfy and don't have to leave any surprises for me when I leave a room. There has been only one accident so far, and I am not naming names, but Molly would never do that. Neither would I. Molly does, however, eat goose poop.

I will be back, when I get my own cable service in the condo. "Borrowed" signals are not very reliable. I am using the service in my old house right now. I just didn't want anyone to worry that anything really went wrong.

Does anyone know the phone number to call AOL? I need to make a change in my service and I can't fooking find any phone numbers. I can't stay online long enough with the, ahem, borrowed signal, to do much of anything, such as deal with the online tech help right now.

Molly wants to go home now. To our new condo. The one I got her for her seventh birthday :)

 

 

Odd request

Just because I am an atheist, it doesn't mean I don't appreciate the power of prayer and good wishes. I grew up with a fundamentalist Baptist mother, so really, I understand more than most people assume. I am not an atheist who scoffs religion. It just isn't for me personally. I admire people with faith and believe that the comfort it gives people is a wonderful thing.

I am asking everyone to please pray for or send happy thoughts to Molly. A healthy, normal dog will freak out if you move a chair two inches, and will spend time following you around, "Mom, you moved that. It's not where it goes any more. Will you put that back? I don't like the change, mom, fix it..."

An Addison dog has no functioning adrenal glands. I know I have mentioned this many times, and I am sorry for that. However, as I have said, stress can kill my dog. It can be good stress, it can be bad stress. It can be stress from something I am unaware of, such as if the neighbors get a new dog and Molly obsesses on that.  If a dog stresses over the movement of a chair, imagine what Molly is going to go through with the entire home moving. She has always lived here. Other than walks, she rarely leaves the property. She doesn't like me to vary the walk route.

I will have to keep her right with me all through the move and watch for signs of stress. Luckily, Molly is one smart little cookie and if she is able, will tell me when she needs her medication amped up. If I give too much, I will have a freaked out, wild, hyper eating machine who pees every 20 seconds uncontrollably. If I give too little, her eletrolyte imbalance will shut her body down. Her potassium will go up, her sodium will go down, she will dehydrate, and eventually refuse to eat or drink, and could die.

As long as I am vigilant enough as her external adrenal glands, she should be OK. A trip to the emergency vet is highly possible. That would stress Molly even more, of course. The last time she went inside a vet's office she had seizures. She is now treated on the sidewalk outside the vet's office, but that wouldn't work if she needs IV hydration.

As far as the cat - well, she is 19 years old. I will do all I can to make her comfy and happy with the move. She might be happy also not to have to deal with stairs any more. Baby is very skittish for a beagle, but will probably go any where I go, and after initial stress, will probably happily bark at the two golden retrievers behind us for the next ten years straight.

Me? I could use some good thoughts too. I haven't moved in 30 years, but I think I have the basics down. Wait until the last minute and rush until you pass out, right? The process starts in about 75 minutes.

Fuzzy Math and other annoying things

I have not yet fallen in a hole and been unable to get up, but it does sort of feel like it. Moving is not a pleasant experience. That is like saying that having a 727 land in your living room would be inconvenient.

First, I had to get a mortgage for part of this house so I can even move, since my house is not yet sold but my condo has been ready for a month. Much information was not given correctly to me, or not at all. For example, there is a 3 day recision period while I have to wait for a check. That means, if I close on the mortgage on Monday, they will give me a check on Friday. Excuse me, that isn't three days. I was a math major originally when I started college, and even if my memory seems to have some oddities, I know Monday to Friday is not three days. Nevertheless, I am closing on the condo on Friday, after I pick up my check.

The rest of the funds came from my financial guy. The real one. On Friday, he said a check would be overnighted to me and I should get it by Monday or Tuesday. Hello, John, the USPS can do better than that. Mail it Friday, and I will get it on Saturday. Overnight isn't 3 or 4 days, is it?

Did you know that if your title is free and clear you have to pay twice as much, literally and exactly, for a title search? I told the mortgage lady that my title was free and clear, and she quoted me the lower price. Oh, she forgot. She also forgot that I gave her the homeowner's insurance information. She called me to tell me I am not insured. I said yes, that is why I gave you that bank statement - it shows that the amount is automatically deducted every month for both my auto and home owner's insurance, and it gives my account number and the name of the company, too. Oh.

She sat on it for two weeks, after telling me that I could close in 2 to 3 weeks. So I took my time here, figuring she will call me at least a week before the actual closing. Nope. "Can you close tomorrow?" No, I can't. Oh, she said, with a sound of confusion.

I called Crate and Barrel to have my table (no chairs) delivered. I was told to give them a 3-day notice and they will get the table delivered to my new home. Does August 1 sound like three days to you? That is the soonest they can deliver it to me.

Friday I will start moving things myself after I close on the condo. Saturday I will move whatever else I can deal with. Sunday, the Big Moving Van will be here and take the rest, other than the furniture I don't want (and plan to donate) and what I will need to maintain this house until it sells.

In an hour I have my final walk through. It's also my first walk through. I took an unofficial walk through a week or two ago, and I didn't see any major issues, so it should be a go. I don't want the move held up, but I won't accept shoddy work. Mostly, I won't deal with another drywall job done by someone who was either an alien or on drugs. I have been looking at the worst drywall job in history for 30 years. 

Wish me luck. Anyone want to suggest what I should use for shelf liner in the kitchen? I hate the idea of doing that again since it's so time consuming, but it seems a practical thing to do. Cindy won't be available to help me set the kitchen up until Tuesday, so maybe I can have it all washed out and lined by then.

Actually, I plan to sit on my patio and drink some absinthe every night. I don't need to rush to put everything away. I have the rest of my life. I can do a few boxes at a time, and pretend I am at my summer cottage. I have another house, after all, so I can think of the condo as a vacation home for a while.

 

Happy Birthday Molly

Today Molly turns 7. She is one special beagle girl. Molly developed Addison's disease last October, and I did not think she was going to live another day, let alone almost a year more. Now, I know that she is likely to live a normal life span as long as I continue to act as her surrogate adrenal glands.

After all, the adrenal glands secrete the mineralcoticoids and the glucocorticoids that our bodies need to stay alive. President Kennedy had this same disease. I knew nothing of the functions of the adrenal glands, but now I am Molly's adrenals. When she is stressed, I provide her with extra cortisone because she depletes her normal dosage for the day. I take her to the vet for a monthly shot of the mineralcoticoid, Percorten-V. I have learned more about electrolyte imbalance than I ever thought was possible.

Molly has been a special girl even without this rare disease. As a puppy she used to grab my things and run and hide under the dining room table. I could not catch her. She often went in my purse and chewed up lipstick and ground it into the carpet. She would chew up pill bottles, but never take a pill. It scared the crap out of me until I realized she just chewed the bottles.

Molly expects everyone in the world is here to pet her. She charms everyone, even some non-dog lovers. She is a suck up, and she makes people smile. She is not shy. She is one major party girl who loves a crowd and a good time. She has been known to drink an ounce or two of beer on occasion. Once, she had a bit of champagne. She liked that.

Molly will eat leftovers off a fork. She does that more neatly than off a plate. She will eat almost anything. She doesn't like red apples, but will eat green. She isn't fond of pickles or green olives but will eat cat turds from the kitty litter box. There is no accounting for her palate.

Molly loves the new beagle puppy next door. She took right to her. She loves all dogs, all people. She has made friends with a horse, a bird, and a woodchuck. She is happiest sleeping on me. If I am not around, she will sleep on someone else. Molly doesn't miss opportunities.

Molly tells me when she needs extra medication and if I hold up 3 different bottles, she will tell me which one. If the cat pees on the throw rug in the laundry room, Molly rings the "servant bell" and sits down, waiting for me to pick up the rug and throw it in the washing machine. If she wants to go out, she rings the bell. If she thinks Baby needs to go out, she rings the bell. If a wasp gets in the house, she points it out to me. Molly loves the mailman and the UPS man, and all repair and delivery people. She cries when they leave.

Years ago, Molly couldn't hold her poop once while I was gone. When I returned, she sat on the throw rug she used and looked at me as if to say, "I take responsibility for this." She didn't get in trouble and it hasn't happened again.

Once I left her and Baby in the car for two minutes while I ran into the drug store. She immediately moved to the driver's seat and stood on the horn. She stayed there until I returned. I still think she doesn't like the car because she wants to do the driving. She keeps trying to convince me that her name is "Terra" and she has a valid CA driver's license. However, Molly is not a blonde.

Molly snores. Loudly. Once in a while she passes gas. She is the best, most beautiful dog in the world. In a way, I understand why she got such a potentially fatal disease. It just makes her more special.

I hope moving doesn't stress her out too much. Stress can kill her, but it won't if I do my job as her external adrenal glands.

Happy Birthday, Molly. I hope you have many, many more.

 

 

A dog walk

One of you read my last entry and said a prayer for me, didn't you? Was it Deb? I know someone did. Someone did that for me, probably even knowing that I am an atheist. Maybe that fact even made the prayer more special. Let me tell you how I know.

Like most warm evenings, I took the hog dog beagles out for their several mile walk. Today's walk was about 3 miles. It was a beautiful evening. The sky was blue; the clouds were high and wispy. The temperature was that exact level where I just can't feel it at all. It seems to be perfect for my skin. The dogs were happy to go and were pacing along rather well.

About halfway, I went around a corner. In front of me I saw a couple with three little ankle biters. I don't recall seeing them before, but I hoped to get by them without the girls noticing them. Baby tends to act out in front of other dogs lately. I was doing well distracting them when one of the little shark baits saw my hogs and started to whine.

That did it. Baby went freako on me, and I was almost ripping skin off my hand trying to hold her leash back. Molly started to choke. That had nothing to do with the leash - she hadn't been paying much attention to the little dogs. She has a soft palate issue and sometime starts to chuff, and she just can't breathe well. I did what I always do.

I hit the ground, put my arm around her, and softly petted her, whispering, "You are the best dog in the world, Molly, you are OK. You will be fine. Just relax," over and over. The words and my tone seem to calm her and she is usually able to breathe normally within a few minutes. At the same time, Baby is still chomping at the bit and straining my torn rotator cuff.

Finally, I stand up again and try to get them slowly moving. Molly starts to chuff again, Baby resumes her barking, and my cell phone rings. (I should be glad I wasn't wearing the capris that went south on me before, because this would have been the moment they went again.)

"Mom? I found a car like the one I wanted, and I am in it right now for a test drive but I wanted to ask you about it...." She has to be able to hear Baby barking her head off, maybe she can even hear Molly chuffing in the background. She doesn't stop at all. "They want $20,000 for the car, but I am approved for $17,000, and it's blah blah...."

I took a deep breath and decided to wing it. "I bet they paid between $9,000 and $11,000 for that car. My guess is it's not worth more than $15,000. Maybe you were approved for a loan of $17,000, but remember we talked about how you need to keep some money available for sales tax of 6% and the other fees, plus paying off your lease on your current car."

"Where are you? I wanted you to look up the Blue Book value for me."

"Child, you should have already had all that in your head by now before you went to look at cars."

"Yes, I know, and my friend whose father works for Chrysler is on the phone now getting the Blue Book value from him...."

"Child? The car isn't worth more than $15,000. Start dealing. Make an offer, tell him you want to make a deal. If he can't get close to what you want, leave. Also, I need you to stay overnight with the dogs one time so I can have a sleep study done."

"I can deal with the car salesman. I can stay with your dogs. That is not a problem."

"Do you need a laugh? The doctor says he thinks I have narcolepsy."

"Mom? You never sleep!"

Did you get the part where she said "that is not a problem?" Thanks to whomever made that prayer for me :)

The Blue Book Value is $15,000 for the car, we found out (good guess, mom!). The dealer went down to $16,000. Child may have a new car later this week!

I may have an ulcer by the end of the week, but I will be able to do the sleep study. The clinic may never be the same.

 

 

Cupcakes and Mandrills

Today I went to see a neurologist about my memory. Maybe what seems a serious problem to me is not - maybe it's worse than I think. I figured it's time to find out.

On they way, my phone rang, leading to a typical conversation with the Child:

Mom?

Yes, Child?

I am at the zoo and looking at the mandrills. I remember when you and grandma took me and the mandrill ate my cupcake.

(yes, I do remember that, very well) Yes, child? I remember that.

Thank you for the memory.

(suspicious) I am surprised you remember - you were only maybe 3.

You gave my cupcake to the mandrill.

No, child, YOU gave your cupcake to the mandrill. It was your choice.

But I remember crying about it. Why did grandma try to comfort me if I did it by choice?

How do I explain this, to you child - you wanted to have your cake and eat it, too.

Oh.....of course.....

I clearly remember the Mandrill Incident. However, I forgot to eat dinner last night.

Last night I was SO tired that I went to bed a few hours earlier than normal - before 1 am. When I woke up, I wasn't sure where I was at first, or what day it was. That isn't too abnormal for me. I then tried to decide if I had to do anything early this morning. After that, I spent some time trying to push a dog over a bit so I could get both of my legs on the bed. I have a queen-sized bed and the dogs allow me about 6 inches on the left edge. I am used to it.

At the sleep clinic, I am expected to show up around 9 pm, go to sleep at 11 pm, and be up by 6 am. I almost cried when they told me that. I gave up those hours when Iretired - and even when I got up at 6 am, I didn't go to bed until midnight or later. The sleep study is going to be a very, very long night for me. Tell me I have to get up at 6 am, and I will be awake most of the night worrying that I will oversleep. I am not going to like all these tests.

Wait until child finds out I need her to spend a night here while I have a sleep study done - they won't let me take the dogs, and yes, I did ask!

While I did survive the MRI on my shoulder, I am not enthused about having one done on my brain. That just sounds creepy. I also have to have an EEG, which I doubt is any worse than an EKG. Probably it won't leave hickeys on my chest, either.

At least the doctor seemed to believe I have a memory issue. He asked me how many nickels in a dollar. I said 20, feeling confident so far...he then asked me how many in 85 cents. I felt stupid. I was really stupid - I subtracted 3 from 20 and said, "18?" I did well in differential equations, statistics, and accounting? I was a math major to begin with? I was so embarrassed!

Oh yeah, speaking of dogs! To the creep who left the pretty dog in the van in the parking lot where I stopped at the store on the way home: Don't even waste your breath, buddy. I recited your van color, make, model, license number, and dog breed to the police. I even added that I didn't see the dog in the car any more, that it must have decided to lie down. Next time, park in the normal lot where people can see your car, and they might assume you ran in for a minute. Park it in the back corner where there aren't any stores, and someone like me will assume you work in one of the stores and won't be back for hours. It might only be 80 degrees out, but I hope someone makes you sit in that van with the windows up for a few hours.

That dog was watching the building, devoted, as dogs are. I did not hesitate to clearly spell every letter when asked my last name.

 

Odd thought

 

While walking last night at the mall, my friend and I came upon a picture at MAC Cosmetics that was a bit risque for a mall. This happens all the time these days. I am embarrassed to walk past our Victoria's Secret store. I would not want to have a young daughter these days and have to explain to her why there is a store in an upscale mall that caters to strippers. (Instead, my daughter drags me in there so she can shop, and I ask her to get me the thongs with the feathers on the butt for my birthday.) The MAC picture shows a woman with perky breasts, a little of her hair falling sort of over where the nipples were maybe airbrushed out, and way too much make up.

My friend made a comment about the picture being inappropriate in a family mall. I can't disagree. What do bare breasts have to do with makeup? She wanted to know who was being targeted with the picture. I said women. She said men, that men see the picture and will let their women shop there.

That isn't the odd thought, though. Sex is used to sell everything. People sometimes forget the products because they are focused on the sex.

The odd thought, is "Why do stores that cater to females use half-naked women to lure them in?" So do the men's stores. Think about it.

It's common in the journals for women to put up cute little tags. I have noticed that most tags that women put up are drawings of sexy women. I just don't get it. If I were going to put up little tags, they would be of attractive males, or maybe dogs and cats. If I want to see a naked woman, I have mirrors. I cango in ladies' gym lockers. I don't need the peek-a-boo pictures of women. What is wrong with me?

As we walked past another store, I think Armani, there was one extremely attractive young male putting up a new display. Out of hearing of anyone else (since the mall was closing and no one was around) I made a joke about wanting to take him home just so I could look at him. My friend said she knew I would want to do more than look. I said I didn't think I had the right parts to interest the guy, so looking would be just fine. He was a work of art. There is a separation in my mind between lust and art, but sometimes it blurs a little. That one, though, he was nice to watch.

I was appalled once by a poster in a window in another mall that showed a girl of age 9 or 10 - with no bra on under a thin top, and erect nipples showing. I thought that was over the top and considered complaining to the company about catering to pedophiles. I was not entirely surprised that I never saw that poster again. They could have cut the picture above her nipples - it was a cute picture, otherwise. Gratuitous sex featuring children is just not OK with me. (I would name the store, but I am not positive which it was and don't want to malign the wrong company. I can ask my friend; she still has a memory.)

I know studies have been done and sexy pictures have been shown to men and women. Both men and women are more aroused, in general, by the female form.

Nevertheless, my response to my friend was, "Well, I think women must believe that if they use MAC make up, they will suddenly have breasts like that."

Marketing will never cease to amaze me.

Moving thoughts

Since I am most likely moving within a couple of weeks, I decided it's time to start packing. I don't like to rush into things. I have been in this house for 30 years and am not the neatest person on the block. Clean maybe, but not particuarly neat. I like things I need to be at hand and things I don't need can be some place else. Doesn't much matter to me where "some place else" is.

The boxes are filling up my dining room and living room, and so far are empty. I take that back. I filled four of them today. I emptied out most of my linen closet. I am exhausted.

Some of you have moved many times, and certainly more recently than I have. All I can remember is to not mix up stuff in boxes, label top and side, and it helps to also write down what is in them. Don't overload.

Personally, I think it would be much more fun to leave off any kind of labels, and just go for the surprise. There is a chance I will end up with shoulder surgery still and child may end up having to help me with unpacking, I guess I have to give up the idea of walking on the wild side. She can yell loud enough to wake the dead - in another state.

I can't even figure out for sure where to put the full boxes. I have an almost empty family room the size of a small restaurant, but this is a four level home. I don't want to drag boxes up and down stairs any more than necessary. It makes sense to me to put full boxes in the dining room on the main floor, and drag the dining room table down the stairs. I could just stack boxes on top of and under the table and leave it in place. Which would look less disgusting to prospective buyers?

My hat is off to anyone who can just pack up and move without fretting. I spent 15 minutes trying to decide about curling irons.

Tomorrow I am getting two more loads of boxes and I need to get some kind of a path going here or I am going to be looking at a fire and emergency hazard. Who knew boxes took up so much space?

At least with the condo I will have so much dead space in the foyer area that I can pileeverything I own in there and get a frontloader to drag it all out.

I see why I have put off moving since my divorce, 22 years ago. My personality and moving are like oil and water. Perhaps it's more accurate to use the comparison of gasoline and fire.

Any advice regarding moving will be gratefully received. I did finally start a list of whom needs to be notified when I move.

Yesterday I finally went inside my condo for the first time in about 6 weeks. It does look lovely, it really does. They are about to start pressuring me to close. My house has not even had a nibble yet.

 

Pearl of Wisdom

Don't put moth ball crystals down a garbage disposal.

 

A long week

Monday morning I should have just stuck my head in the toilet first thing and flushed. It would have improved my week.

Monday I had to spend 3 hours in the dentist's chair. Need I say more about that? I came home from that after being told I will probably hurt quite a bit for three days or so, and had to drug up Molly to get her ready for her monthly shot. She also had her blood tested, and both dogs were tested for heartworm and I bought heartworm pills for a year for both dogs. That ran up a total of around $500. I dealt with a drugged up dog the rest of the night. I had planned to drop her Valium dosage, but since she had to get blood tests too, I decided to wait until next time. No seizures, no issues. It just wears me out to worry about it.

The rest of the week is sort of one big blob in my mind. I know I had a nice lunch with my former co-worker. I made several trips to Meijer's meat department to get boxes for packing. These boxes are great. I have quite a few now. My Highlander can really pack them in! The boxes are made to carry around 60 lbs of meat, so they are very sturdy, have holes in them for handles, and the tops are on them. I have stacks of boxes in my dining room.

A friend of mine made a comment to me. "They used to have RAW MEAT in them?" Sure. You know they just throw a few unwrapped chops, beef sirloin, and somd ground cow into a box to bleed all over. Then they sell them at your grocery store. (Actually, the dogs aren't even sniffing the boxes, so the meat must be extremely well wrapped.)

The corners of the boxes have left some icky bruises on my forearms. The bruises look a lot like finger prints - if I had interviewed a child with bruises like this, I would have asked to see the other side, looking for thumb prints. I don't have the thumb print bruises, but I do look abused. That means wearing long sleeves in 90 degree weather or answering a lot of questions. Of course, I get some questions about the long sleeves, too.

I spent a couple of hours at the bank working on the two house problem. An appraiser came out. I spent a few hours in another institution working on another unrelated problem. Child called and asked me to help her move two tables because nothing fits in her car.

That was my mistake. I said sure. I also grabbed a half dozen of my nice new (used, raw meat) boxes and went in the basement and packed up most of her stuff that was supposed to be out of here over a year ago. I carried it up two flights of stairs and put it in my car.

I got to child's apartment she is leaving and found her painting. She had to paint the entire apartment in colors (her choice, she just felt she had to), so she waited until the last possible moment to paint it all white again. The apartment was mostly cleared out, and a real mess. She got mad because I interrupted her life by returning her items from my basement. We made a trip to take them to her new apartment. It's on the second floor. We took all the stuff from the basement plus all the stuff we could get in my car and dragged it up the stairs.

I refused to help paint. For one thing, I wasn't dressed for it. I thought we were moving two tables and going out to eat. I was wrong. We stopped at Wendy's for a quick dinner. Very quick. We went back to the old apartment and moved more stuff. We loaded my car with garbage and drove it to the dumpster. We moved more stuff. I picked up stuff while she painted. I moved things around. I sorted stuff. She painted, helped decide what to throw out, and worried about not being done in time. We moved the tables last. I should not have, but I did. She is too small to do it alone. We moved televisions, too. We actually rolled one up the stairs, carefully. It was easier than lifting it.

I picked up more boxes the next day. I had my massage this week and the vampire was upset with me immediately. WHAT DID YOU DO? Uh, I helped the child move. WHAT AM I GOING TO DO WITH YOU? Fix me. She is my only child.

Child decided she needs a new car right now because her lease is running out and she has hit the limit on her mileage. She went to a few dealerships, who did what they do best. They got her all fired up and told her she had to get a new car RIGHT NOW. However, she didn't qualify for the lease she really wanted and was going to accept a small, unsafe little car. I offered to cosign for a safer, bigger vehicle. Co-sign, not buy for. Child was told that if she missed one lease payment I would not hesitate to remove her skin. Slowly. She accepted the terms.

Yesterday I was supposed to finally get inside my condo again for a walk through. Not the final one, but at least I would get in - it has been at least 6 weeks since I was inside. I don't feel any personal ownership there any more. It's just a nice place to visit and look in the windows.

We each drove a 50-mile round trip visit to the dealership, early in  the morning (She intended to leave her car there and take a new one home, and I won't ride in a car that is owned by a smoker). We sat down, and the salesman said I had to put the car in my name. I said no. Child got distressed. She agreed, but wanted the car. I felt bad, she felt bad, but no way was I going to own a car driven by my child who will go to bars and drive home. She understood entirely, but cried on the way out of the building. Broke my heart, and made me very upset with Chrysler. I felt they humiliated her in an attempt to force us to make a decision we had no intentions of making. Let's not add in the cost of us both driving 50 miles to be humiliated. Child has not missed a lease payment on her current car and keeps the insurance paid.

We went to her apartment to finish up. She had to turn in the keys by 5 pm. I was supposed to walk through my condo at 2, so I called and said it would be later. We agreed on 4ish. Child and I went to work. She painted, I cleaned. I bagged up trash. Her roommate had just taken what she wanted and left her junk behind, especially in the refrigerator and freezer, for child and I to clean out for her. Child has my old vaccum cleaner since she first moved out of here several years ago. She turned it on, and I went to see what the noise was. Smoke was coming out of it. We figured out why the ex-roomie had not vacuumed anything past her own bedroom. She blew up the vaccum that wasn't hers and just left.

We got back in my car and came to my house, getting my spare vacuum (I have two, so I don't have to drag them up and down stairs as much) and some boxes and garbage bags. Child gave up on the painting, and we dragged everything out finally by 4:30.

Child stuck a can of blue paint in with other trash in a garbage bag. It didn't have a lid on it, or not tight. She grabbed the bag from my car to throw it into the dumpster, and it broke open. There was blue paint on my car, on my tires, on me, and on her. She did a pretty good job cleaning it up.

On a later trash run, I grabbed a bag she had put in my car for the dumpster and went to toss it in. It was a white bag, and I noticed the corner was filled with - white paint. Sigh. I looked down, and saw paint on my favorite black Birkenstock sandals. I looked in the car, and saw paint on the carpeting. She did clean that up fairly well, too. My shoes didn't clean up so great. Neither did my toes, at the time.

I of course got home too late to make the walk through at the condo. I just packed up the dogs and went anyway. We walked around the outside, around the pond, and through the complex as we have done pretty much weekly. It still feels like a nice place to visit, not like my home at all.

Also during the week I did go buy a dining room table, finally. Just the table. No chairs, no china cabinet or hutch or anything else. I told the saleslady I don't like to buy furniture. I said I could have spent a week in Toronto for what that table cost. She thought about it, decided I had a valid point.

Last night my 'good' shoulder started to hurt pretty bad. I am sure I lifted too many things, favoring my right shoulder. I have been cuddled with ice packs since. I need to start packing my own home and cleaning up in case anyone wants to see my house.

Not that I expect anyone to come. I haven't even heard from my agent in 3 weeks. She has never, in two months, made a report to me on progress. She has never answered my email questions about other advertising. Since I have it all in emails, I will be contacting her boss next week and requesting to be released from my contract and then I have to find a new agent who is aggressive.

I would have been happy to have skipped this week.

Oh, I left out the part where child seems to have tonsillitis. She is working double shifts all weekend, and can't get to a doctor until Monday. She would have liked to skip this week, too, I am sure.