Month and Life Recap

Bulleted list style--

*I had 6th laser hair removal treatment (of 9). It was the worst pain imaginable...though I've never really experienced any terribly painful things...broken bones, stitches, labor...still. TERRIBLE. I would love to insert an analysis of my treatments but I'm not sure how to most effectively do so: No numbing cream on #1, #6; Numbing cream used on #2-#5; Allergic reaction on #3 and #6...leads me to the reaction isn't numbing cream related at least... Um, treatments #1, #3, #6 were in Buford, #2 at Perimeter and #4 and #5 were in Savannah...so probs not the location--BUT both times I reacted I had a technician named Grace. Pretty sure I don't ever want her again...Enough of that

*Had one really happy shopping day at the MAll of GA, got lots of good deals on cute clothes, stayed strong and did NOT give in to Dippin' Dots (This. Is. Huge. People. I GO to GA games FOR Dippin' Dots (and cheerleaders, sun and cute tailgating clothes.) I almost go to Six Flags for the Dippin' Dots...almost.) Discovered Charming Charlie. Accesory store. Words don't do justice. It is worse than HOBBY LOBBY for my retail therapy. I got an AWESOME green necklace and earrings this time. (I'm going back Friday)

*It has been the most beautiful, warm, sunny March I have seen in YEARS!!!

*I didn't get to go to Jamaica...it was very sad. Please ask for tradgic details...

*I had a birthday. I'm 27 years-old

*I have gone a little crazy sewing and have made 9 new skirts...I can't WAIT to wear a different one every day of the summer!!! Maybe if I were a picture poster I would show you...Maybe one day I will become a picture poster...

*My friend Sarah returned from Africa when she found out she has cancer. I'm thankful for the time we've gotten to spend together in the days she has been back! God is working miracles!

*Lots of friends are having babies--I LOVE me some babies (but I'm so glad they aren't mine :))

*I am WELL...After 4 months of being sick, I am well. No medicine, no fever. Just in time for allergies.

*Let's see...enjoying preschool, really loving my kids and half days!

*I will never EVER dog sit ever again. Enough said.

*I got a big tax return...and then someone fraudulently used my debit card. So...I'm waiting on a new one and taking care of all my automatic bill pays...Boo...

*6th annual Restoration happened. Attended with my dear friend Christina...but it was still just sad.

*SSI friends visited, that was just sad too...

So basically I am just cramming in one more post this month. I really could have/should have written a post about each one of the events listed above but I didn't. I MIGHT try to do better next month. (I'm 2 days early for that to be an April Fool's joke...) All in all, it was a nice month weather wise, financially, and socially (but for maybe 3 occasions). It was a bust anxiety-and-all-wise...but here's to next month--His mercy is new every morning!

Why Lizards and Yogurt don't mix...

My youngest "brother" David, who is not all that young anymore (will be 12 in June) is funny. He is actually hilariously funny...but he *thinks* he is funny too and therefore ruins it a lot of the time. He also has the ability to be extremely obnoxious.

Today was a beautiful day and we were all outside doing various activities, Lydia and I were playing softball. David and his pal from across the street were playing basketball in the driveway and Christopher had a tennis racket (but was hitting rocks, acorns and a water bottle around--hey, it couldn't really be THAT nice...someone HAD to be destroying something.)

Lydia started whining that she was hot and tired (and clearly over softball (it was like 65 degrees and perfect, we hat played catch for about 10 minutes and she batted about 15 times, can't WAIT for the real season to start...) so I began to head inside. I don't tolerate the whining much.

I took the long route, through the basketball game and noticed they were throwing the ball at this place on the fence and asked what they were doing. Trying to catch a lizard... OK. I don't really even bother asking "why" when I get answers like this. Christopher [stopped hitting the water bottle around with the tennis racket and] picked up the softball Lydia and I had abandoned and decided to "shoot" a basket with it which immediately redirected my attention from the lizard hunt to screaming at him that he was going to shatter the back board and someone was going to kill him for it, that he never took care of anything he had and how could he expect to be entrusted nice things if he only destroyed what he already had!?! This is a recurring theme of my lectures. I don't even let David near most of my belongings--especially accessories or anything having small or separate parts. He would pick at them and tear it up in 2 seconds.

Then Lydia and I made in into the house. I'd love to say Christopher came in too, ashamed, tail between his legs...but we all know that he cared nothing for what I had to say and probably resumed hitting rocks with a tennis racket (probably more closely directed at my car for that matter...) Eventually David came in as we were getting ready to leave for church and "nonchalantly" stated that there was a lizard on my car ["Really, it is. It's still there. We glued it there."] and walked off. I say nonchalantly in quotes because David never REALLY says anything in passing, he will repeat it until it is acknowledged, but he tries to get a reaction by WHAT he says... And he had already told me [lying] that I'd had a spider on my head... so I didn't really listen/care. I muttered some "uh huh" under my breath or something so he wouldn't keep telling me multiple times ignoring my efforts to ignore him...and continued getting ready to go.

I was only taking Lydia with me, the other were meeting us there so she and I went ahead out to the car...where we did see a lizard on my windshield. Lydia wanted it to ride all the way to church there but I told her I would go down the driveway and if it started to move I would stop there and put him in the grass. I didn't want him flying off somewhere on the way and hurting himself...or dying... [I like to imagine my friend Becca reading this story right now, partially because of her fondness for lizards and their close relatives...and her shuddering at the thought that I would find it necessary to show mercy to such a creepy crawly creature...]

So lizard made it down the driveway and hadn't move so I continued on. He greatly amused us as we threw out theories on why he wasn't moving and was he dead or not, shedding his skin (not my theory) or just had strong stickiness on his toes enabling him to stay on despite the speed and wind. Lydia was convinced he was shedding his skin. I argued that I didn't think lizards shed (but please correct me if I am wrong) I was convinced he'd gotten dropped or squished (or hit with a basketball...) and was dying a slow painful death on my windshield. He even had little clear smudge/smear marks where he looked like he had slid down a little from the original position... I was sure those smudges were guts...

But finally a gust of wind whipped his tail around and his body seemed to fly up a bit--but his legs and arms didn't move--he was stuck! I immediately remembered David saying something about gluing...and I pulled over immediately appalled. He was STUCK to the windshield! I had to scrape his little feet and hands free and then set him free in the grass.

I was distraught. I pretty much immediately called Carrie and told her to tell David I was calling the police and reporting him for animal cruelty and he might go to jail. He believed her and confessed the whole story...luckily his intent was not cruelty, but mischief, it just went awry...

Scene 1:

David and Davis think it would be funny to put lizard on Catherine's car.

It would be funnier if lizard left little lizard foot print marks all over Catherine's windshield.

We need something to cause tracks...hmmm...how about yogurt?

Yes.

Let us DIP lizard into yogurt and place him on the windshield.

Scene 2:

Yogurt-coated-lizard (how appetizing) is placed on to warm, directly sun-lit windshield.

Lizard LIKES the warm sun-lit windshield and proceeds to sun bathe awhile, recovering from the traumatic yogurt bath he has just encountered...

However, he awakes he finds himself--BAKED.DRIED.CEMENTED in place on windshield and then...

GASP--whipping along a road at 60 MPH!

Large girl human coming around the car with an ice scraper...and finally lizard is free...

...to seek lizard counseling for PTSD...ASAP...OMG...TTYL...

Regretting it all.

“Oh blog,” in the famous words of King Triton, “what have I done? What. Have. I. Done?”

I never should have moved. I never should have left the beach and my job and my simple island life. It was the best thing ever. Of course I missed familiarity and friends, and Hobby Lobby, Carrabba’s, Panera and Barnes and Noble, really any shopping at my finger tips. But here is the truth—I was just running away from the past. I wanted to start a new life by burying the old one…but it wasn’t dead to bury and I couldn’t build on that kind of a foundation. But I didn’t need to realize that now, I promise. I would have really been ok waiting a few years for a couple of cracks in the foundation to emerge…and I would fix those…why did I have to come back here and re-open all kinds of wounds that had probably already begun to heal?

I’m kind of at a place where I just want to do things quickly…not necessarily well… Which is NOT like me at all. If you are familiar at all with the Strengths Finder analysis, I am a Maximizer...I don't want to do things good, I want to do them the best. I would rather start from scratch, work harder and make something EXCELLENT than clean up someone else's mess and make it better or good. But here I am. Take my closet painting job. I didn’t repair the drywall, I just painted over it and hoped it didn’t dissolve the wall or anything. I guessed I could always go back and fix it later (which I realize makes me do double the work in the end, but that was a risk I was willing to take.) By the end I had several spots on the ceiling thanks to a careless roller, a good many areas needing a thorough second coat, and a bit of trim work to perfect…but I decided it was “good enough” because I was sick of doing it anymore—much like my life.

Another instance, say you cut yourself or bust your head open and have to get stitches. Once it starts healing the stitches have to be removed so it can heal properly and completely, for minimal scarring…well, I would be just fine with having some stitches stuck inside me for awhile rather than going through the pain of going back in and taking them out. I am even ok with the scars at this point…you have them either way, just depends on how big you can handle them and for me, I would rather deal with big scars later than big pain now.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t do it forever…though I didn’t realize this was what I was consenting to when I decided to move back here…and now here I am back in the hospital and the surgeon has to remove the stitches AND correct the other damages. But while he’s inside my heart he’s going to realize what I recently have: it is worse than we thought…I have a BIG problem. I make BAD choices and I actually suck at life. (Those are the main ones.) The real one however is that I have developed this coping mechanism that I would have NEVER said I employed before: avoidance/denial…and it is just causing me more and more pain.

Before, if I had a problem or conflict of interest, if I wasn’t comfortable or didn’t enjoy something, if I had a question, comment, even a thought that popped into my pretty little head…I made it known. I’ve been a “youngest child” in a sense in all of my post-high-school relationships, and one of my strengths is communication. I expressed what I thought, liked, disliked, wanted, and didn’t want. I generally didn’t have much of a preference when it comes to things, but was just along for the ride but when I did, I made my opinion known… And when I had an issue in my relationships, I was always in favor of talking about it and working it out. Always. I didn’t worry that confrontaion may cause a bigger problem like awkwardness or even the end of the relationship as long as the problem was solved and I didn’t have to deal with it anymore. (If it ruined the relationship, I was pretty sure it wasn’t going to make it for the long haul anyway, if a small confrontation couldn’t be resolved then we sure couldn’t weather a large storm.) These, I believe are healthy thoughts. People have to be able to handle some confrontation in their lives or they’re going to walk all over people or be walked all over.

But all of this has changed and I don’t know exactly what happened…I have a few guesses which I will try and explain…

I have finally been crushed by the feeling that whatever I think, want, feel, doesn’t matter anyway so why should I say anything. Nothing I say is going to change the facts so why say anything? I’m not going to bother telling you I don’t like something you are doing to me because you aren’t going to stop. AND I wouldn’t feel as if it what I say didn’t matter had people not given me that impression. For example, my mom. I am almost 30 years old and I have hated mayonnaise for, oh, ever. To this day she would still make me a sandwich with a nice glob of mayonnaise squishing out the sides. Do I say anything? No. Why? Because I have told her at least 3 times a week since I was 9 years old and took my lunch to school and she still does it. Have I tried extreme measures to get my point across? Well, multiple times I stormed in the house after school demanding food because I hadn’t eaten all day because SOMEONE put mayonnaise on my sandwich. I have also on occasion claimed the sibling favoritism card and cried, “No, HE’S the one who likes mayonnaise and you NEVER mess it up in HIS sandwich—you OBVIOUSLY love HIM more.” I think I’ve made my point. It doesn’t matter.

When I moved 4 or more hours away from everyone I knew…I [truly] didn’t have anyone that knew or cared about my opinions. I remember telling one of my best friends over the phone, “it just feels kind of like I’ve died inside.” When I did meet people and have company, I was “new” and just happy to be included and so I never spoke my opinion on matters and any inconveniences or annoyances I tried to ignore. You know, like you would tell people you are comfortable with if it is bothering you that they are popping their gum, or scraping their teeth on their fork…and they laugh and say they didn’t realize they were even doing it… OR roll their eyes and argue but you still love each other. Well, with new people, they might just hate you. So you endure the smacking.

This especially proves true when matters of the heart are involved (as opposed to my sandwich preferences…) When you get into things that hurt you, you have to be careful who you tell. You have to trust people with your heart…and when people are careless…you don’t.

If you tell me that it hurts your feelings when I don’t respond to your calls or text messages very often, and I don’t try to do better. You will stop calling.

When you spontaneously ask me to have dinner or go out and I continuously say no. You will stop asking. Most people get the hint.

If we talked regularly for years and then I don’t talk to you for 6 weeks and don’t see where the problem is with that, no excuses. You don’t want to be my friend anymore.

If you know there is something bothering me and when you ask what, I say, “nothing.” You will not ask me anymore.

I…have…completely…become…that…person.

Used to I would call you and annoy you to death, write you cards and letters asking you to please talk to me, text me back occasionally, I know you’re busy, be my friend…” I would still like a hopelessly-optimistic-person-I-am-not call you and ask if you wanted to walk, have lunch, dinner, see a movie, go to the mall, even if you always said no… I would always take your phone call and talk to you like it didn’t bother me in the slightest, even if it had been six weeks. (Or I would tell you it hurt my feelings but that it was ok and we would continue to talk for an hour.) Not now.

I don’t want to bother with any of that. If you don’t want to be my friend, that’s fine. I don’t want to be yours either. If I don’t want to eat sushi everytime we hang out, who cares, it doesn’t matter anyway. And if you ask me what is bothering me, I will absolutely say “nothing.” And that is in the case that any of you even care to ask.

I want to move back to the beach where I am 5 hours away and don’t even have to see your face. I don’t want to hang out with someone who is even rumored to be friends with you too and I don’t even really want to try and maintain friendships I still consider good friendships because no one even seems to care, nothing I want even matters.

In short, I have become an avoider of conflict. I will lie through my teeth right to your face and tell you what I think you want to hear just to get by. Small talk, bring it on, but try and dig a little deeper, fat chance. I am actually in favor of running away from your problems all together and moving to a literal island where you have to communicate only on a surface, congenial level with everyone. Where the people I run into are either much older than me and to be respected or much younger than me and not to be burdened with grown-up feelings, responsibilities or problems. See you back at the beach?

Sticker Collections and a Silly Girl...

Apparently there is a popular website called www.dearblankpleaseblank.com and it's super hilarious. One of my Allisons told me about it and I have been thinking in dearblankpleaseblank letters all day! Please go to the site and read some, but until then, to explain a little more, they go a little something like this

Dear so-and-so,
Please do or don't or something sarcastic
Thanks, Someone relevant to the recipient or message

Ok, ok, example,

Dear Perfect Boyfriend,
Welcome to the Club!
Love, Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy
(Get it?)

Well mine isn't witty and funny like those but this would be mine and a great introduction to my post...

Dear 13-year-old-self,

Do not cover every inch of the walls in stickers, no matter how important they may seem to you at the time.

Thanks,
Your 26-year-old self who is having to scrape them all off...

So maybe I have some kind of obsession with stickers. I do love stickers and have about a billion of them in all of my craft stuff...but until this week when I moved back into my mom's house (and my childhood bedroom) did I realize I might have a slight problem.

Growing up I had a great room: bunk beds, triple high bunk bed, a lofted bed...etc. I had a little nook hiding place, two window sills to sit in way up high and a closet that is basically a museum now.

My closet was a place that I drew on the walls and let my friends write notes and sign...and is also where I stuck just about every sticker I ever got...which was apparently a LOT.

I had braces for 6 1/2 years meaning an orthodontist appointment about once a month, and dental visits 3 times a year...which roughly meant about 100 trips to SOME Dr. or another's office...each of which usually yeilded 4-6 large stickers.

Apparently they all went on my closet walls. I have stickers from every major holiday and season, Winter, Valentine's Day, St. PAtrick's Day, Easter, Spring, Summer, Back to School, Christmas, etc. There are little tiny sheet stickers of everything from Winnie the Pooh to Pokemon and golden stars. Like reward stars. I must've just gotten a pack and decided to put every single one of them on the wall. Great Job. A+ Catherine.

I have BUMPER STICKERS, expensive, big stickers, concert or record label stickers, journey's and Vans stickers and basically, anything that stuck, anything with adhesive backing, I stuck on my walls. I even have the opposite side of the stickers, the shell, the stuff that's left on a sheet of stickers when you've used all of the stickers off...I have several size stickers saying:

6 Reg
6 Reg
6 Reg
6 Reg
6 Reg
6 Reg

and

S
S
S
S
S
S

Really? This kind of collection could NOT be healthy.

Well...I have moved back into my room and have decided that that kind of disorder and chaos in my closet is just going to make me crazy so I will have to paint over it. Please don't hate me if you were one of the lucky ones to get to sign your name or write "Have a nice summer" on my wall. I took lots of pictures and I will be sure to always remember you all in my heart... You can be sure that my level of anxiety will have decreased about 50% as I stare into the newly painted, uniform, closet and take a deep breath.

BUT how does one begin to do something like that? I tried my hardest to peel each sticker off with my fingernails, then with an exacto knife...most of them however having been stuck on there for over 10 years peeled off a portion and just ripped the top layer off. I used some denatured alcohol in the form of Goof-off and pretty much acheived only a mild headache from the fumes...and then I just began getting them off at any cost--and removed a bunch of the drywall... I think I'm going to have to repair the drywall and sand a little...but I might get impatient and try and prime and paint right over it. One thing is for sure, to all you 13 year olds out there with a sticker fetish--get a sticker book.

Moving Day

Well I moved. And ohhh boy. I can’t remember a day where I have felt so mad. Frustrated, angry, whatever. I am just furious. Things did not go well.

First of all, I love my mother, I respect her, I try and honor her, I know she loves me more than life itself (although I don’t know how much she enjoys me)…BUT we are very opposite people and we are very similar people. We are opposite on things we should be similar on and the things we are similar in…are reasons we disagree, because we are both stubborn.

The first thing that I have to say is that she is busy. She definitely has a lot of things going on and anyone [who is not me] might have a hard time keeping them straight. I am about to sound prideful here, so stop reading if you want…but mom, write things down, figure out what you want and then do it. Have some priorities or something and in general do not give me a play-by-play. For example, do not call me on Thursday (2 days before I am counting on you to help me move) and say something like this, “Well, Aunt Ellen [102-years-old] died and the funeral is Saturday.” To that I will say, “Alright, so what are you saying? That you are not actually going to be helping me move? That you really WANT to help me but you just might need to be at the funeral, or really, you just wanted me to know?” Because all of those things are ok, I just need to know, because I will need to make a [now-super-last-minute] revised plan. [Which I hate because it now makes ME look like the flighty, doesn’t-plan-ahead-of-time person, which I am not.] I have been planning this for weeks, I get my entire house packed up beautifully. Bought boxes, bubble wrapped everything safely, labeled the boxes specifically, taped things…lots of things…I organized my piles into things going to the house and things going into storage…packed everything meticulously, dotted every ‘i’ and crossed every ‘t’ I have diagrams and lists made of how I need to unpack things in my new room, and I have done everything...] I asked my mom to reserve a truck and rent a storage unit (which she needed reminding about) and she was going to bring my cousin Win, who had offered to help with the move, for the things that were heavy or required two people to move, like the couch.

So they decided they probably needed to go to the funeral. Alright. (I need to make sure you realize that I respect them going to the funeral, THAT is not the issue or what I am upset about. If you ever had reason to bail on me, a funeral is a totally excusable reason, ok?) I hung up and quickly made a new plan. The truck was being rented FROM here, one-way, so I could still pick that up myself no problem. I could find man-power to help me load things up here…drive the U-haul myself—and all I needed now was somehow to get my own car back up there.

So I called my college girls to see if any of them had carpooled and wouldn’t mind driving my car back for me instead of riding back together. Strike. I decided I could always leave the car and have someone drive me back to SSI to get it the next weekend or something and moved on to the man-power problem. Picked a dad from the daycare, friends also with a baby-sitting client of mine back in Athens, got a commitment, check. Forget about the car.

Mom calls back (play-by-play). “I need to—I want to help you, to be there for you as you do this.” Ok, thanks. You will not solve the problem alone…all that will do is waste gas because we would still have one more car than we have driver. She suggested my brother’s girlfriend-who-is-donating-her-eggs. No thanks. That’s a lot to ask of someone who has never said a word to me in our lives. I decided she should stay, go to the funeral and I would try my trusty old AJS man ;) He now has a driving son who could accompany him (plus two extra strong men) and drive a car back. Strike 2. BUT his wife could ride with my mom and solve the whole problem. Whew, ok!

I communicated the new plan to my mom, all she had to do was be ready to leave when Carrie arrived at 8 AM on Saturday, drive the 4 hrs. to the island and turn around and drive back.

Mom texted me the next morning: “Win just called and is coming afterall so CC doesn’t have to.” [The all-caps party is for the things I was thinking...] AHHHHHHHHHHHHH! FINE! YOU CALL CARRIE AND FIRE HER, CHANGE THE PLAN ON HER AGAIN—BUT DON’T DARE PUT ME IN A POSITION WHERE I HAVE TO CALL HER THE MORNING OF AT 7:00 AND BEG HER TO COME…AGAIN…WORD! BY THE WAY, THIS WAS THE ORIGINAL PLAN AND YOU COULD HAVE SAVED ME SO MUCH TIME AND GRIEF BY NOT CALLING ME AT ALL THURSDAY. But I said, “I don’t even care as long as you show up with someone who can drive.”

8:01 the next day, the morning of: “We can’t find Win so we’re an hour behind.” NEVER SPEAK TO ME AGAIN!!! I didn’t respond so she calls me. “Hello?” “Corry.” STOP CALLING ME THAT. “What?” “What’s wrong? You sound upset.” ARE YOU KIDDING ME? “I am just asleep.” “Oh—well it’s 8:00, aren't you supposed to get the truck at 9?!” [LOST IT.] “YES, and I will, it is like 8 minutes from here!” “Oh, ok…” and proceeds to tell me that they are looking for my cousin, who went to some party the night before where there is no cell coverage, got drunk and passed out somewhere. They can’t find him, get a hold of him or anything, so they are running a bit behind. RIGHT, I GOT THAT FROM THE TEXT, I WAS JUST TOO PISSED OFF TO RESPOND…BUT NOW YOU'VE WOKEN ME UP TO TELL ME THE SAME THING! PLEASE JUST KILL ME NOW! So I sternly explained to her that I just didn’t understand why she had to go and change the plan that I’d already fixed once from an at least reliable person back to drunk-ass-kid!!! I wished Carrie had been able to come. I think she would’ve mellowed me out a good bit and I would’ve had a better day—because it only got worse from here.

I confirmed with my mom that I needed to pick the truck up from the U-haul rental on Glynn Ave. and set out. Well the truck wasn’t there and though it wasn’t her fault, it was annoying that another of the (only) 3 things I asked her to do hadn’t gone smoothly. Someone at Glynn Ave. located the truck that was actually set to be picked up at Norwich St…and I headed BACK across town. I had JUST dropped off my cable box at Comcast on (drumroll… Norwich.)

It was in a sketchy little place, but no worse than the Glynn Ave. place (that’s Brunswick for you) smoky as a lounge, but the man was as nice as he could be… He just moved slower than Christmas. I mean it took FOREVER. I was already stressing about beating Ed and Allison back to the house…then I hadn’t remembered to remind the U-haul man about including a hand truck…so I basically just doubled the time I had to spend there but I thought it would be really helpful.

I finally got the truck picked up, paid for and back to the condo, where I did a damn good job parking that beast. I am a really great backer, btw, also, I pretty great driver in general…I just tend to go a little fast.) I backed it in perfectly, all by myself and I wasn’t too terribly late for my helpers. Allison brought donuts and as soon as I got the first bite near enough to my lips it was like a flood of relief and comfort washed over me. Chocolate is a powerful drug to me. The heart rate went down, the breathing got deeper, I relaxed… and then we got moving. (Pun intended.)

Ed and I got all the heavy stuff, he loaded things as I commanded and almost everything ended up where it needed to be. The mattresses were tricky and ended up in the back of the truck although they would be some of the first things I wanted unloaded…oh well. I could feel my legs starting to burn and my back was hurting a little already but what else could I do, I didn’t have a lot of choice but to keep going—which is why I think sometimes I either ignore or don’t recognize the messages my body is telling me like, “You are starving,” “You are not hungry, you are actually extremely dehydrated” or “Please stop, when your vision and hearing faded out a little while ago, it means we can’t do this anymore and you are going to pass out.”

We seriously had MAYBE 15 minutes left of loading when my mom and Win finally arrived. Last things needed to be loaded and organized into the CR-V and then all was left was to clean a few more things. But of course that is the point it is really hard to tell people what to do. Pack the cooler, clean out my fridge and freeze… Better yet, the bathroom: please scrub my toilet and shower, friend. I am also a freak about cleaning. Pretty much I feel like I need to do it myself or it won’t be good enough. [Side note, especially when money like a security deposit is on the line…I’m not messing around with any sub-par cleaning. I did get my mom to do the windows. I tried to tell myself, “Who could mess up cleaning the windows.”

But she finished that quickly and was chomping at the bit to get everything all finished. We’ve already established I like to do things my way…so when you might do it the wrong way, well it’s the same thing as the cleaning, I would just rather do it myself…even if there are 4 other people around just watching me try and do everything.

I sent my mom and Win to pick up my car that I had had to leave at the dealership when I picked up the truck so that helped some. Until they came back and were doing the same thing—just acting like they were in such a hurry, rushing me to finish, “let’s just knock this out” kind of attitude…which is fine except—YOU ARE THE ONES WHO ARE 2 HOURS LATE SO DON’T RUSH ME!!! GO FOR A WALK ON THE BEACH FOR ALL I CARE WITH AS MUCH HELP AS YOU ARE BEING, JUST DON’T ACT LIKE I AM WASTING YOUR TIME!!! They both swooped like vultures on the remaining pile in the living room and asked if it was ready to be packed. Well the remaining stuff included: my suitcase, dirty clothes basket, modem/router, and external HD, things I wanted right away or were extremely important (my HD.) I mean would you just throw your computer in the back of a moving truck? No. No, you wouldn’t.

I wanted that stuff in the car. My trunk was full but my seats were empty and my mom’s seats had been lain down to pack things in. I got started cleaning and left them to the packing. We had done good job in the beginning, knew what we were doing, had a plan, cared or something…and packed things well. They wouldn’t slide around, were boxed up well, etc… so when I heard Win talking about having “more room in the truck” I just let it go in one ear and out the other. I was consciously trying not to micro manage. And surely, with so little stuff remaining, surely even if it wasn’t loaded the exact way I would load it I would be ok with it for a couple of hours. I just tried not to imagine what it looked like after they pulled the door down closed the last time.

They were ready, and hungry and really, I think they were probably in such a hurry because they wanted something to eat. So I bid farewell to Allison and we went out to lunch. Lunch was terse to say the least…and then my mother (after ALL of the 4 pages of nonsense above…PAID my cousin for all of his “help.” Oh and not just with lunch, or 20 bucks, but $100.) I thought to just raise hell right there in the restaurant, but finally just thought better of it and decided if she wants to be that stupid, let her. As long as she’s that generous with the Benjamins the next time I help her out with something.

I dropped them back off at the condo to get in their respective vehicles when I saw that my market tote had been thrown in the car, was lying haphazardly on it’s side, contents already begiining to spill out and I hadn’t even driven 2 miles. IT HAD MY COMPUTER IN IT FOR CHRISTS SAKE! I turned it back right side up and tried not to imagine what the other car looked like…I sent them ahead of me, said some last minute good-byes and left town about 1.5 hrs. after them. As I drove a bit further I noticed that I couldn’t find my big purse so I called my mom to see if she knew where it might be. Well, my purse hadn’t made it to my car. It was in the pile by the suitcase and etc… but no big deal right? At least it had been loaded at all? Well yes, but in the truck? The MOVING TRUCK?!? Really? I refuse to have children at the risk of one having as little common sense as that.

So I didn’t have anything like my headset or iPod, camera, snacks, or even a bottle of water with me which was at most annoying…I always have a bottle of water on me in the car in case I start to cough, which is often and can’t stop. This seems stupid, but wait till you are driving with me and it happens and I have to stop, almost stop breathing, begin to gag, my tongue cramps up, and we almost wreck. It’s swell fun.

So I drove the 4 hours in the same bad mood I had started the day in. When I arrived in the ‘Boro at 8:30 ish…no one was even home. It was like 30 degrees cooler than it had been and 50 degrees cooler than I am used to, and dark. I could not have felt anymore like screaming, “WHAT WAS I THINKING!?” or turning right around and heading back to the beach and texting EVERYONE the next morning saying, “JK!”

I sat down for a few minutes trying to corral the fury that I was about to lash out with…and waited on my mother to grace me with her presence again. By the time she had returned I had just decided it was too dark, late, cold and I was too physically exhausted to do any unloading tonight, we should just find a padlock, lock the truck and go to bed. She agreed and then, once again lacking any common sense said, “but we don’t need a padlock. If the cab of the truck is locked, it’s fine.”

WELL PARDON ME IF I DON’T FANCY THE IDEA OF EVERY PERSONAL BELONGING I HAVE BEING STOLEN RIGHT OUT FROM UNDER MY NOSE BECAUSE I DIDN’T THINK I “NEEDED TO” LOCK THE MOVING TRUCK.

So I lost it, had to prove to her that just because the cab is locked you CAN still open the back, and as I proceeded to lift the door, EVERYTHING that had been in the last pile, that my mom and Win had loaded in “the car” fell out ON ME into the parking lot.

I stood there stunned for a minute and the in my silent fury began to carry box by box into my mom’s living room (and SLAM them down)…which SHE then decided she had a problem with where I was putting them in her house...so that I had to SCREAM “WELL I’M JUST TRYING TO GET EVERYTHING OFF THE EFFING GROUND FOR THE MOMENT. THANKS TO YOU AND WIN WHO SHOW UP TWO HOURS LATE ACTING LIKE YOU ARE IN SUCH A HURRY OR HAVE BEEN SO INCONVENIENCED BY ME OR SOMETHING, CARELESSLY THROWING ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING INTO THE BACK OF THE MOVING TRUCK JUST BECAUSE THERE’S STILL ROOM AND HURRYING TO TRY AND JUST GET IT DONE--JUST DO NOT BOTHER. DO NOT HELP ME. DO NOT TALK TO ME.

I got the rest of the stuff that had fallen out into the house and stormed upstairs to just go to bed before I said something else hateful.

Exceeeeept…when I got to my room an old bed frame was still up (though they’d had 2 weeks to get that done it hadn’t been taken care of yet, there was no way to get to MY mattresses or a place to even just put the old ones on the floor…I climbed through an obstacle course to the very back of the moving truck to get my sleeping bag (which I knew EXACTLY where it was seeing as how I loaded it and loaded it WELL) and rolled out my stupid sleeping bag and went to sleep.

I was furious. About the cold, all the poorly packed stuff falling out on me, that things were probably broken, that my mom was rushing me and stressing me out all day, that she still PAID Win $100, that I’d done EVERYTHING by myself and I’m SICK of doing everything by myself—but I would 100% rather just do things myself than have someone help me like that. I was mad that I was so angry and ended up saying things I’ll probably regret, and finally that my mom had just asked Jeff if he needed any help with his groceries. FINE, HELP HIM, DON’T HELP ME; FINE, GO OUTSIDE AND TALK ABOUT HOW UNGRATEFUL I AM, WHATEVER YOU’RE GETTING OUT OF HERE TO DO…Fine, go cry because I hurt your feelings… THEN I feel the worst of all because I imagine I hurt her feelings and she hates me and goes to bed crying because of me. I can’t even LIVE here, can’t even pull into town without feeling like this! So I HATE THIS and I have got to find a way out now, before I even move my bed in. In.Furiating.

Packing.

I have been packing for what seems like 3 months, or at least planning to pack for that long. I should also admit that I am an EXCELLENT packer, should I have things my way. Whether or not I am packing for the weekend, packing to return home from a trip or packing up my entire house, I am good at it...and I really enjoy it. I think I should be a professional packer. Or mover. Or organizer. Or go on the show Hoarders at teach people how to organize and simplify their lives!

I have also been cleaning. The deep cleaning stuff that you usually only need to do every few months: the blinds, washing out the trash cans, etc. And I went to rinse out the coffee pot to go ahead and pack it...well, about 6 weeks ago, I made tea, with tea bags, in it...it was the Tuesday before Thanksgiving...Well, apparently after I made the tea...I left the tea bags in there. But don't worry, I found them yesterday. (Guess what else got thrown away besides the furry, moldy tea bags? Yeah...the coffee maker. I don't do mold.)

What I also don't do...grocery shopping. I'm not good at it, I quite despise it, actually.

But whilst packing I found lots of things in my pantry that were Kroger brand. Perplexed, I sat back to realize that if anything in my pantry was bought at Kroger it had to be over 7 months old! Likely a lot older...because I haven't been to Kroger since I moved...the island doesn't have a Kroger! (But don't worry, nothing else had mold...not even the peanut butter that had a sell by date from 2009...And the vanilla wafers were still fresh, opened and all...mmm...preservatives.)

How do I...

...manage to create such chaos?!?!?!

This time I have some what documented it...

1.) Allison spent the night so we

rearranged the living room to accommodate the air mattress. She said the couch was fine...I insisted we blow up the queen sized air mattress.

2.) This require I unpack a box that I'd already sealed and retrieve the comforter and sheets to fit, and the pump. So the contents of the box have seemed to seep out as well.

3.) I have multiple boxes that are open and being packed as I go in several locations, which merits multiple pairs of scissors and rolls of packing tape strewn about.

4.) I have begun taking things off the walls as well and so the tools are out-ish. But the hammer was out for another reason... I began an art project/Christmas present today that might've been a tile project. So I was using the hammer to break tile pieces. (and place those pieces onto the grout I had spread all over the plaster I had mixed...) so THAT is number 5 in essence.

6.) I also poured my first candle today. The mess was beautiful. Kind of like James' song... "candle wax on the floor I can't take it any more!!!" I also managed to spill a vial of the scented oil. It smells divine in my kitchen. Vanilla goodness and without baking a crumb.

7.) Baking. I will have to send a picture of the baking project I am supposed to undertake for Monday :/

8.) unfinished sewing projects (and sequins, threads, bobbins, ribbon and bits of thread and material) EVERYWHERE! Actual completed products. Nowhere...

9.) Paper, receipts, bills/mail, trash...piling up...

10.) I walk in the door after work each day and begin taking clothes off. They tend to stay where they fall. Clean, dirty, worn-but-probs-not-exactly-dirty, rejected outfit I tried on and any other manner of laundry has taken over. I still haven't put anything I washed last weekend in ATH away.

11.) I think that's just about it. Oh, except for the piles that I started with before this documentation...likely have things in them from this summer, for sure Halloween. Lovely.

Aren't you happy I don't live with you!?! Be a good friend to me and remember to never combine Christmas and another big event, ESPECIALLY moving. I'll be home later Saturday...unload, TRY to settle in somewhat...back to FL for MLK...then time to figure out what life might look like for awhile...ugh...what am I doing!?