So it’s been a very eventful few days… wow!
On Friday, we closed. On Saturday, we packed. On Sunday, we moved into the most charming and perfect little house that ever existed. Really. I love it. The front arch, the crown moldings, the French doors, the hardwoods, the freaking charm bursting from every corner and crevice… it really, truly is the most perfect house that Bobby and I could have ever happened upon, much less purchased.
On the first night, that Sunday night, Bobby and I insisted to ourselves and everyone that we spend the night in our new house. So despite the fact that we had hired movers to arrive Monday morning, we hauled our mattress, boxsprings, and bed out of the apt, down the stairs, and into the back of Bobby’s mom’s pickup… Took it to the house and set it up and was very happy with ourselves indeed. At 4:30am, we awoke with chattering teeth and icy feet… turns out that the thermostat has some sort of method that Bobby wasn’t privy to when he set it, and it had gone off at some point, resulting in the house dropping to a chilling 50-something degrees. We made the executive decision to dig through the multitudes of garbage bags of linens (a truly ingenious packing tool, by the way) to find a blanket or comforter. The only things that we came up with, however, was a tablecloth and bath towels… so we wrapped ourselves tightly in our kitchen and bathroom linens and chattered our way through the rest of the night.
On Monday, the mover boys came and they were fabulous. By 5pm, EUREKA!!! – all of our belongings from every location were now residing in our little bungalow o’ perfection. The storage room had been emptied, my Craig’s List treasure of an entertainment center had been retrieved from Spartanburg, and the dining room table and chairs had even been picked up from the tiny consignment store that we discovered one Saturday morning purely by accident. It ‘twas truly glorious to have everything we own under one roof.
Then Tuesday. Oh my. Woke up this morning in a bit of a funk – feeling frantic that we weren’t going to get everything organized and unpacked, knowing that we had to drop the rental truck off by 8am and dreading the task of cleaning every trace of ourselves out of the apt, but also excited because the end of North Gate means the beginning of 602 North Street…. Have I mentioned that I dearly, dearly, sincerely with my whole heart love our little house?
So the day began. A trip to Dunkin Donuts and an extra-large (the largest they had, actually) jug of coffee helped clear the frantic-ness while we dropped off the truck and erased ourselves from 4115 Liberty Hwy, Apt A-as-in-apple-8. When we arrived back at our new permanent residence, which was still gleaming with cuteness in the morning sun, we got into a huge brawl when the admin at Champion called Bobby’s phone. Now before you judge me for being a hard and callous bitch, please understand that Bobby had been harassed and stalked by these people the entire day before. ARGH. Why, why, WHY can’t they just let him have a freaking day off?!?!? So, being the drama queen that I am, I finally uncover the sofa and throw myself upon it in misery. I was suddenly overcome by the realization that I missed Mama wretchedly. During my many moves – I lived in a different dorm practically every semester that I was at Lander, and then moved several times in Clemson before I finally became Bobby’s problem – she was always there. She didn’t haul stuff, but once it was all inside the apt/house/townhouse/dorm, she whirred into action like a little cleaning dervish, finding the perfect place for all my random and non-random crap, and just generally restoring order to my new home-for-now. She never asked me where she should put the pots, or where I wanted the glasses to be, or what I thought about the arrangement of the bedroom furniture. She just knew. She knew me better than anyone ever has or ever will… and I never, ever, EVER had to ask her to cut the contact paper evenly or put the coffee mugs in the cabinets top-DOWN!!! Top-up allows the germs to get in!!! So I cry. And cry. And cry. A slow steady drip that soaks into the leather sofa and makes a spot, but I just don’t care very much.
And then, the day, which already has a semi-shitty tinge, takes a definite downturn. I mean, I’m talking, DEEP DIVE. Champion’s owner calls and tells Bobby that they’re going out of business… that they’re liquidating their assets, packing their bags, cutting their losses, and going home. So now Bobby’s unemployed. We just became one of the those people that you hear about who buy and house and lose their jobs 3 days later. Yes, really.
Ok. Now what?