Holy Moly, Holly, You’ve Been Gone Too Long!
My last post was the 16th of April, and it was to share the great news about my weight loss. But a few days before that, on the 11th, I mentioned that my blog would likely be sporadic for the next couple of weeks because I was moving.
Well, hell. After that weight loss post, it wasn’t just sporadic, but dead to the world, that’s what my blog was. Because that’s how I was feeling, especially from the 21st on. We he had a yard sale on the 22nd, which meant the week before we were working like crazy getting stuff together, pricing it, sorting it, etc. Then the day of, we had to move the crap all outside and try to sell it! I sold my trusty treadmill (sob!) because we just don’t have space where we’re moving to for it at all, and I don’t have room to store it, either. We got rid of a LOT of stuff.
(And I got a sunburn through my shirt and my bra! What the heck is up with that? I slathered on sunscreen on all the exposed bits. Who gets a sunburn through TWO layers of clothing? That has never happened to me before. My girlie bits were NOT happy. I was out in the sun for about an hour, my boobs felt like they were on fire, and I figured out why. After that, I went and got a giant umbrella and sat under it for the rest of the sale. I can only imagine how roasted they would have been if I had been without that umbrella! If I’m going to get a sunburn on my girls, I at least should have had the fun of hanging out at a nude beach or something. Totally not fair.)
The 26th marked the day we moved all the big stuff–we rented a small truck and hauled all our stuff to my dad’s. Then over the next week, we packed up the rest of our stuff and cleaned up the apartment. We were officially out of our apartment four minutes until midnight on the 30th–the very last day we possibly could be there. Talk about down to the wire, lol!
Then, the next day, we looked at the giant piles of stuff everywhere at our new house and groaned. We STILL weren’t done, because now we had to unpack. Today we still have about 6 or seven boxes that still need unpacking. That’s just boxes of our stuff. We also have about 10 good sized boxes of food we need to figure out how to integrate into my dad’s cupboards. Good thing we brought a shelving unit to act as a “pantry” for the overflow. We worked hard to eat up the food in our cupboards last month so that we wouldn’t have so much to move, and we STILL had that many boxes. Can you say we like to be prepared? (BTW, very little of that is canned or boxed goods. It’s almost all bulk foodstuffs like several kinds of flour, oatmeal, farina, variety of different beans, dried peppers, variety of dried fungus, a variety of different rices, potatoes, onions, spices, peanut butter, agave, etc.) So between what my dad has and what we have, we won’t need to do much grocery shopping this month, except for the perishables like milk, fruits and veggies. Meats we’ve got covered. I bought a bunch of chicken last month on the cheap (10 lb. back of chicken legquarters for $5.50 a bag–I bought two) and stuck them in his freezer. Um, did I mention we like to be prepared?
Anyhow, the upshot of all this moving and unpacking is that I’m TIRED. I’ve never been this tired. The last couple of days we were still moving stuff, all I wanted to do was crawl into bed for a week, I was that tired, and yet I still had to force myself to keep going, because I had a deadline and I had to. I wonder if that is how people who walk across America feel sometimes? So bone-tired weary they want to sleep for a week, yet they keep on going because of some self-imposed deadline?
I am covered with bruises from the move. My joints and muscles are achy. I’ve never been this achy after a move before. It seriously hurts to do much of anything. It sucks getting older. I’m not as springy as I used to be. I’m living on Tylenol lately.
Needless to say, I haven’t been doing much walking these last few weeks. Since we’ve moved into Dad’s, I’ve been walking a little over a mile a day because I had to take my dog out for walks to do his business, which totally sucked considering how tired I was. Dad has a yard, and it’s even bigger than the one we had, but it has a short fence. Dante isn’t a jumper, but yet I hesitate to leave him in the back yard. If he sees another dog, he might get excited enough to jump the fence. I dunno. So I take him for walks. It’s better for him, and better for me anyway. My husband helps on the walking, too. He’s been trying to get more walking in himself. A lot of times we go walking together.
The last time we moved was in 2009. I wrote a poem back then (I was taking a poetry class at the time) that still seems incredibly apropos, because it really describes how I’m feeling. The only thing that would be better than caffeine and tiger balm right now is a hot tub.
Stress and strain, pulled muscles-
magma flows through my nerves.
Dropped boxes, cracked knuckles-
I’m a brown and purple Dalmation of bruises.
All night, last minute frenzied preparation-
a disco mirror ball of fatigue pulses through my head.
Caffeine and tiger balm are salvation.