Langer Loksh

You Only Need 10% of What You Own!

Until you need the rest! And then you're like, crap! Everything I own is wadded up in Hefty bags in a basement room that smells like wood smoke from the not-up-to-code wood stove down there!

We've been living with a few plates and glasses, one frying pan, one spaghetti pot, and whatever clothes we had in our dressers; the kids play with sticks and rocks outside. But yesterday Jeff had to attend the wedding of an employee, and could not find his suit or the iron. We ripped apart the Hefty bags until we found a suit, and by some miracle I came upon the iron in a box full of those twisty new light bulbs, and Jeff made it to New Bege in the nick of time.

I guess we'd better start unpacking for real. I do wish the boxes of plastic, battery-operated toys would mysteriously disappear.

Packing

and moving everything you own is sort of boring and exhausting.

And suddenly there is a live bird or chipmunk, something squeaky and chirpy, behind my file cabinet, so I'm just going to end this post right here and walk away. The cats are on duty...

Like Ripping off a Bandaid Slowly

We came back from the Cape to close on the new house on Friday morning, and then turned around and went back. Then we came back on Saturday night and went straight to the new house just for fun. Then today Jeff and Summer planted the vegetable garden while I pondered which rooms were hideous enough to have to be painted immediately, before we even move our toothbrushes in. (Answer: all of them!) Charlie passed out on the floor so we just stepped over and around him. We all feel at home there already, and our stuff isn't even there.

We ate chicken and squash from the grocery store kitchen (Grandma's favorite!) on the floor, which reminded me of the pizza on the floor at the old house 10 years ago, and then even though we didn't even want to, we came back to our old house, where the beds are. Moving over the course of two weeks is going to be hard, but for the opposite reasons that I'd thought. We suddenly cannot wait to move. I personally cannot wait for all those toilets.

Hide the Knife Block

Knives on the counter apparently give off a weird vibe. Who knew?

We had two showings today. One was a doctor who has an office in the nabe; Peggy said he's coming back with his girlfriend on Thursday. The other was an older man who didn't stay long.

Also during Summer's birthday party this random couple showed up because they thought we were having an open house. We told them to look around but they seemed really embarrassed. They looked like exactly the right people, though.

The Dishwasher Doesn't Know

that there's a For Sale sign on the front lawn. It doesn't know, and it doesn't care. It broke anyway, and there's standing water in it, and now I have nowhere to hide our clean underpants, because that's where Peggy said to hide the laundry. There or the freezer. And Jeff is working nine thousand hours a day, and when he gets home I have heavy things for him to move and I'm not going to ask him to get involved with the stupid fucking thousand dollar Bosch dishwasher that SUCKS SUCKS SUCKS. So I'm not cooking at all anymore. We're eating takeout on paper plates until this house is sold.

Boo!

When you sell your house there are certain things you are obligated to inform the buyers. If there has been a murder, or if there a ghost, you must disclose these facts. Peggy actually sold a house in Concord with a ghost. However, there is no need to tell buyers if there are creepy people next door.

Pain-t

You are supposed to be able to walk around the outside of a house unobstructed. Jeff had to cut back the trees against the house to make a little more space. Then, at Dave's direction, he spraypainted the fresh cuts black, to seal the branches against insects and to make it look less conspicuous. Reminded me of the queen in Alice in Wonderland.

Dave rejected my paint color for the bathroom. "It looks like black coffee," he complained. (I believe it was called nutty beige.) Lighter and brighter will sell better, he says. Jeff went to get another color. Now something strange is happening in the bathroom. It smells like ammonia. Dave said "I've never had this much trouble painting a bathroom in my life." I'm not asking any questions.

Things You Find Out When You Move

Jeff has way, way more windbreakers, jackets, and topcoats than I do.

Perhaps a new category is in order.