Mark, the guy next door whom I have yet to meet, is still nice enough to let me use his internet. Even though he doesn't know it. So, here I am. The only trouble is, it only works sitting by the window (or PRESSED against the window) on the 2nd floor... and in my bathtub. Seriously. Pray that I don't get electrocuted.
Maybe I should turn the water off.
Anyway, the unpacking has begun. And is still going on. And is still not fun. Anything BUT fun. I strictly remember saying, "I hate packing but unpacking is fun." And "I don't care how it gets there or what room it gets delivered to, I'll straighten it all out later."
Well, UNtruer words were never spoken. I HATE UNPACKING, probably more than I hate packing. And I'm very frustrated when things are in the wrong rooms. I found my silverware in the garage and my hammers were packed with the Cheerios. I guess I was tired. Or crazy. Take your pick.
But the worst part of it all... is that Rick keeps asking for things. And getting mad when I can't produce them. My standard answer is, "Unpack a box and find it yourself!!" But that'll never happen. It's more fun to ask me where something is.
Today the missing piece of importance was a certain notebook. That he just had to find. Or he would die. And he had to have it NOW!!! And, of course, I had no clue where it was.
So I asked him when he needed it... and he frantically answered August 11th!!!!
Okay, correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't this still July? Didn't matter. He had to have that notebook now.
But don't go picturing him opening up any boxes looking for it... it was much more fun to pout and blame me for packing it in a place that he could never find it in. I'm so mean like that.
But all was not lost... because his sunglasses, car keys and favorite Vietnam Vet hat have all suddenly appeared. So he's forgotten all about that notebook.
Now if he could only find his way back to the house...