Frailness Achieved

My Heroes Out for Dinner Sunday Night With My Wife and I

I’ve taken the whole “frail” appellation to heart. There’s the old expression, “I love it when a plan comes together” that is haunting me right now. My plan for the move worked out flawlessly except for factoring in the chronological impact of participants, notably myself. I have never felt as tired as I felt last night and the Army did a fairly thorough job of testing those parameters over my career with them. We never would have reached the culminating point if not for the usual stalwart effort of my sister and brother in law who came to help on Sunday. My sister was assigned the gentle work of wrapping delicate statues while my brother in law and I handled those tasks requiring brute force and ignorance. During one of our trips back from across the street we heard a crash and saw my wife inspecting the remains of some of those statues  from a collapsed shelf. I did not think it prudent to bring up my sister’s legendary clumsiness when we were growing up. It was just not the right time. My wife, to her credit, didn’t overreact; I’m just glad I wasn’t responsible for the damage.

Scenes from the Move

They were true heroes on Sunday though as we got just about everything except the heavy stuff moved across the street. The effort did take its toll though. I mean they’re both even older than I am. Buddy took out my sister’s recently repaired knee when he charged to “confront” a pit bull walking down the street. Buddy’s like one of those idiots in a bar fight that first insures he’s surrounded by people to hold him back before he gets brave. My brother in law’s back succumbed in the later stages of the day’s efforts. We were a pretty sad group limping into the “99” to celebrate our victory. I really owe those guys and spending time with them over dinner allowed me fully enjoy just how special they are.

The final phase of the plan involved a ten foot U-Haul truck and some “rent-a strong-back” help through the U-Haul reservation. The truck was ready and the two young guys showed up precisely on timer and we got to work. We’d load the big stuff into the truck and I’d drive it across the street and semi-skillfully back it up to the front door. It turned out my “man cave” in the basement was a little trickier than I thought it would be getting the sectional couch moved into. We eventually conquered after some “skillful” dis- and re- assembly. In the midst of the move I got a call from the cable company, scheduled for the afternoon.

They were coming two hours early! I mean when does the cable company ever show up early!? So I was chasing around for a couple hours explaining how I wanted things to be set up while simultaneously making the drives across the street. Halfway through these efforts we figured out my movie rack, a vital asset, wouldn’t fit into the man cave without some serious deconstruction. I only broke it a little bit but was able to reassemble it late last night into serviceable state.

By early afternoon we had cable and phone service established and the last items were shoe horned into the new house. We were now confronted with the need to go back and clean the old house. This included all the bathrooms and Buddy’s den in the basement which bore the brunt of a full year of Buddy’s ravages. We also had to load the myriad small items throughout the house that hadn’t been moved over yet. By the end of the work my car looked like some exotic caravan with a small space for the driver. Five hours later my already battered body was truly on life support. I even let my wife drive to the restaurant for a very late dinner. (not because I’m usually a chauvinist but that she scares the hell out of me when I’m completely sober) Even though it was a school night I allowed myself a cold draft beer and it was a revelation.

Hard at Work, Helping Mom Shop

We had just returned from the old house when we got a Facetime call from California. I was so exhausted I couldn’t fully enjoy the antics of my granddaughter who I truly miss more than I’m willing to admit to anyone, much less myself. She’s almost adjusted back to West Coast time and I know her mother is looking forward to the return of Wingman tomorrow as the he bids farewell to the US phase of his farewell tour.

Now to start the unpacking process…