Friday, May 8, 2009
If I Ever Mention...
If ever, for the rest of my life, I mention that I am considering moving. Please shoot me.
It is difficult enough being out of shape, having Fibromyalgia and MS and trying to pack an enclosed trailer. It is doubly difficult loading furniture and boxes with a man who has mis-read the measuring tape every single time he's used it today.
It is insane to believe he has told me EVERYTHING about the first phone call this morning from a couple wanting to look at this place. Never mind NOT mentioning the second or third phone call to me. Where was I, you ask? Showing the first couple around the back field. I had been told they would arrive "late this evening."
What THEY had said was, "We were out late in the evening so we won't get to your place until noon instead of 10 a.m."
But lucky me, he thinks I've done such a grand job of packing - and repacking when he mis-measures - that he now wants to make another trip to the Upper Peninsula with this borrowed trailer. "Then the last load can be the 26' U-Haul with all my stuff with a flatbed behind it hauling the tractor," he says.
"I thought that's what you said you wanted to do anyway?"
He says, "Did I?"
I say, "WHATEVER!!!!" And then added, "When we get this load up there I'll stay. You can come back and pack up your stuff!!!"
And then he says, "Are you mad at me?" as he scrapes the dining room table top along the corner of the metal shelving.
If I were a drinker, I'd be plastered. So Mayberry, and Busted and whomever else cares to indulge, please do so on my behalf.