My name is H.A. Larson and I am a Woman of a Particular Age. I occasionally write ghostly and horror novellas, as well as some editorials for different publications, from my desk in the Midwest. I'm a hiker, adventurer, and traveler. I'm an ex-pat in-training that likes wine and Renaissance Faires. I'm a music fanatic and I much prefer a book over television.
I have something to say: I'm over it. Having a month and a half to move into one place and out of another gives you plenty of time to move everything you want to keep into your new place and then deal with what's left at the old place. This is where I, my ex-husband, and our kids have been since mid-April. At first, it was pretty great, but as time goes on, it's wearing thin.
See, it's amazing to see just how much crap you've managed to accumulate when you are emptying out a house you've lived in for nearly 11 years. For the past four weekends, we've done nothing but move into our respective places and work on the old house...mainly the latter.
If that wasn't fun enough, we've had a comedy of errors happen along the way. We've been locked out of the house twice - once by our son and another by the landlord; we've thought we were making excellent progress a few times only to remember that we still have a shed and an attic full of crap; we've had a garage sale weekend that started off on the wrong foot and never really recovered, and I've had so many people interested in buying my appliances and other items only to never message me back.
On top of all this, we've had to work our full-time jobs, and mine has been incredibly busy for the past two weeks during a time when it's usually slow. Of course, right? I'm busy in my regular day-to-day life because, as you all know, I still do a lot of things from scratch/the old-fashioned way. The landlord is also eager for us to be out so they can start working on the house, so I had to finally let them know that we have paid all the bills for this month and that we will be there until the end, geesh! It's all enough to make me want to pull my hair out.
The other day, after nearly breaking down in tears for about the third time, I texted my ex and said, "I don't care if it kills us, we're going to be done with that house by this Saturday." See, Monday the 31st is the last day we have possession of the old dump (our loving nickname for it) and since it's a holiday weekend, I'd like to enjoy Sunday and Monday as a weekend. I mean, after busting my ass for the last month and a half, I feel like I've earned a weekend where I don't have to do crap.
All right, H.A., just take a deep breath. Four more days. Please let me have the strength!