MONDAY: Movers arrive in NYC. There is lots of sweating involved. Mommy drives me to DC.
TUESDAY: Movers arrive in DC. I set off my new alarm system multiple times, scaring myself and the puglets senseless. I go set up a new bank account and realize I've left my drivers licsence in NYC while closing THAT bank account. Luckily, this means instead of going to the DMV to renew said lost licsence, I drink many iced coffees while locating the whereabouts of the lost ID and arranging to have it mailed to me. Whilst locating lost ID, I check the balance of the NYC account I was forced to leave open since my landlords have yet to cash my July 1st rent check, and find they have still not cashed it yet tried to cash my August 1st check which they claimed was lost in an office fire, forcing me to put a stop payment on it and issue a new check.
WEDNESDAY: I visit my new doctor, who is thoroughly impressed with all my Itis-es and doles out appropriate referrals and prescriptions. Mommy and I hit many huge chain stores looking for apartment stuff, like towels and flatware, when I realize I can't purchase any of these items because I dont have a debit, PIN card, checks or much cash yet, and have no idea what size lamp I actually need until I've unpacked the many boxes now stacked in my kitchen and living room. The pugs start to love the back garden, and I experience the joy of multiple mosquito bites. I didn't know ghettos had 'squitos. I'm used to rats and roaches, and just so I don't forget the roaches I realize some have hitched a ride to DC in my moving boxes while trying to find out exactly where I packed the clean sheets. Now clean sheets with roachie germs
THURSDAY: The pugs are shuttled to the new vet, I do phone concults for the desserts I'm catering on Saturday, make my shopping list for Friday, and try to recall in exactly WHICh box my pastry implements are located in. My little brother shows up completely drunk to say hi to me, crushes me in a bear hug, and traps me in my apartment for many minutes bawling and kissing me and telling me what a horrible brother he's been, how he's so glad his family is all here now and I've agreed to make his wedding cake, what a wonderful sister I am and how screwed up our family is. We go up to my parents house where he passes out on the sofa, I get some dinner, and my parents go to drive him home before he pukes. Once back, I make myself scarce before the alcholic family drama insues..the one where the alcoholic parents try and decide if the alcoholic child is truly alcoholic or just stupid, and I laugh in nervous hysteria once safely back in my apartment, whilst reminding myself this is why I ran away in the first place. Oh, and he totally did puke while in the car, apparently.
The phone line has been turned on, at last, and I open emails to find a "Dear John" best friend breakup letter citing references from two posts down. WOOHOO! This day keeps getting better!
I LOVE moving!
