stereotypical single woman

The boys just wanted to make sure they were going to the new house too. Last night, once the power came back on, fueled by frustration with my current landlord, I spent about three hours in a flurry of packing. They’re lucky I didn’t just tape the boxes closed with them in them.

The original plan was to get my keys this Friday and spend the next two weeks taking a car load of stuff over to the house every day, to lessen the exhaustion on myself and be the smallest possible pain in the ass to my family and friends. I could move and pack things in a sane, organized, and civilized way. Then, the last weekend in May, ideally everything but my furniture would be at the house, and then my sisters and Dan could help me move the big stuff in one trip. After all my stuff was there I would move Teddie and the boys in at the same time so no one would be invading anyone’s territory, but the boys would be surrounded by stuff that smelled familiar, aided by some Feliway that I haven’t ordered yet, and a lot of stress would be avoided. Well, we all know that what the universe does with your well intentioned plans. It craps all over them.

Yesterday I called my current landlord to ask if he knew about the power outage at our building. I wanted to ask if someone had reported it to the power company, and if he or someone else had checked the circuit breakers in the building, as I was at work and incapable of doing so. I had no problem calling the power company but I definitely wasn’t going to pay the $60 fee if they made a service call and found it to be a problem with the building’s equipment. He paused for a minute and then said that they were going to be changing the door to the basement so it would be easier to check the circuit breakers, but it wouldn’t be fixed before I was leaving. And when was I leaving again? Oh and by the way, I know you asked that we give you 24 hours notice as to when we were going to show your apartment so you could move your cats for the day because you apartment opens directly to the outside and a very busy street, but that’s just not always going to be possible, and we’re not going to guarantee that the cats won’t get out, and we aren’t liable for anything. So he not only told me that he didn’t care if he let my cats out, because let’s face it - he has a wife and kids to go home to every night and doesn’t care that all some other people have are a couple of cats and that’s what stops them from feeling so lonely they’ll have animated discussions with the walls, but HE NEVER ANSWERED MY QUESTION. bastard.

So the plan is now to get as much as I can over to the house this weekend so at least I can leave the boys there during the day. What was once organized packing is now me throwing whatever is within reach in a box, taping it closed, and labeling it “stuff.” Saturday is going to be a chaotic, exhausting day.