Sunday, July 13, 2014

The Last Move?

by Leann

I am now writing a THIRD book in the rent house, not something I ever thought would happen. If I believed I would ever get used to this rental house, I was so wrong. If anything, I have become more and more uncomfortable here. I feel ... homeless. But that will soon end--perhaps even in the year 2014.

The county inspector did his thing on the new house and though we had a little Sheetrock to add under the basement stairs (which has already been finished since he came), he told us we could start moving boxes into the house. Did that mean the cursed driveway was finished? NO. Of course not. They've only cancelled our work about a dozen times to do other jobs.

But the box thing has started all over again. Moving is not fun. I have never heard one person ever say--I can't wait to pack, haul, drive, unpack, lift and oh, my favorite--argue. Apparently I need lots of supervising when it comes to what I want to save and what I want to throw away. But, at this point in my life, this will probably be the last time we move. Most times, I can look back and say, "Wow, I had no idea that was the last patient I would ever treat, or that was the last time I spoke to my mom or my dad before they passed." This time, I can predict rather than look back. I won't be doing this again.

There are two bedrooms in this rental that have been packed to the ceiling with boxes and other stuff we haven't looked at for a long time. For me, it was a little awful to see things hidden away that I should be using. The good news is, we have been moving boxes this past week and again I am getting the third degree on why I am saving certain items.

I kept my mouth shut until two printers and an ancient computer tower came out of one bedroom. What? I packed those dinosaurs to go to the electronic recycling center in Houston two and a half years ago. But somehow they ended up here. I wonder how that happened. Oh ... I live with a potential hoarder who cannot bear to part with retro electronic technology (yes, that's what it's called) like old printers and hard drives.
That's how it somehow ended up here in South Carolina! If not for me, he would be buried in a sea of junk mail, paper, tools, ancient furniture, ugly bedding and curtains ... oh, he'd be lost. They'd need more than a bobcat to dig him out. Those things have now been disposed of as of yesterday... I hope.

This very moment the general contractor aka my husband (who REALLY has done a great job wading into unfamiliar water building this house) is over at the property while I write this. He was told they were pouring cement today. I have shed too many tears of disappointment in the last several months when they cancelled our job over and over and over, but it is happening. But don't for a minute believe a person who writes murder mysteries for a living isn't thinking about revenge for a certain subcontractor. Fictional revenge, of course, but it will feel so good. Trust me, there will be concrete involved the 2015 Cats in Trouble mystery!

And update--here it is. (Who would have thought two years ago I would be so excited to see THIS!)
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