Post-Move Post
Well, we're in the new apartment. All of our stuff is here, but it's in a complete state of disarray. Half the furniture is facing the wrong way. Most of the boxes got piled in front of the laundry closet, so I can't wash clothes. The whole bedroom has to be rearranged, and if I hadn't stood there to make sure the boxes went in a pile instead of being scattered throughout, my writing room would have to be, too. -___- I've spent two days playing one computer game just to reach a low level of functional thought. I don't know how much extra money it cost us to move that should have been utterly avoidable. Between gas and mileage from two extra trips...yeah. A pretty penny. It could easily have been headed off by a little patience on the part of some of our moving help. But I think he showed up wanting to be done in three hours. Unfortunately, unlike his 20 year-old college kid pad, we have Married Stuff. My bed alone probably cost more than his entire apartment. It also got treated like a college kid's stuff, and I was treated like I had no idea what the hell I was talking about just because I'm a girl. I was so upset, I actually yelled at him. Out and out yelled, the likes of which I have probably only yelled at Charlie (and maybe my mom during that one conversation I'm trying to bury deep in my unconscious). Even that, not since he was a freshman or sophomore in college...a decade ago. I was scary. He just kept saying, "Let's go let's go let's go," and bouncing around like a friggin' five year old on candy crack. My brain literally would not work. It just kept buzzing, and he kept badgering, until the energy just weaseled its way in, and I snapped. I told him if he wanted to go so badly, then he should go home. I think I shocked the rest of them into terrified silence, but not him. He just kept right on talking. Jeremy even jumped in to tell him what a sucky job had been done on the truck, and the kid basically said that we could make up for it by moving faster...when moving so fast was what caused the problem in the first place. I think that logic made Jeremy go momentarily mute (hehe - there's another story about insane logic below), so I jumped in and shouted that moving was what my dad did for a living (more or less, you know...), and then my brain died on me (I don't talk when I'm mad for a reason...my mouth moves too fast for my brain, so there are always long, stupid pauses while it catches up). And the kid smarted off and said, "Then why isn't he here helping you move?" (Or it may have been Rob, trying to defuse the situation by being funny...but obviously these guys have never been in a relationship with a woman above 23; Jeremy admits that once you've done that, you know that when we're pissed, you just shut the hell up. In any case, the kid agreed.) I was also upset that he wouldn't give me time to rest when they'd all been standing around in the old apartment for half an hour doing nothing but gabbing while I finished loading the truck myself. Plus, it was hot, humid, and a bad allergy day, so I was feeling crappy to begin with.
And all that from a kid I've always liked and stood up for to the other morons in their group. Argh!
:) Anyway, we've pretty much decided that even if we have to stay here another six months to save up, we're getting professionals to move us when Jeremy grajiates. It's way the hell too stressful otherwise. We'll just have a nice, lovely jaunt across the US and let someone else worry about trucks and packing and all that crap.
Oh, and I can't explain the torture of my father's voice in my head that day. Every time I looked at what they did (the first load, anyway; I stopped looking after that and just let Jeremy deal with it), it was like he smacked me upside the head and told me how he couldn't believe a daughter of his would let such a travesty of shoddy packing occur. I KNOW how to pack a truck. I may not be the best at it, but I know how and can generally do a better than average job when given the opportunity. But before I got down there to supervise that first load, they'd already blocked off the over-cab shelf so we couldn't put anything on it, and they had both the leather couch and my headboard against the walls without pads, and my $$$ mattress sitting on the floor without cover. It hurt, let me tell you.
Since then, we've done nothing. I spent the following nights being too exhausted even to fall asleep, and generally drooled on myself while watching tv. I hung up the fancy clothes...and that's it. Everything else is still haphazzardly scattered throughout the apartment. I also spent the first two nights in the throes of a massive anxiety attack from being so totally drained. Poor Jeremy's had to go to class, which means he's been functioning on even less sleep than I have.
I don't have internet yet. This will be posted when it gets turned on, mailed and installed. (We're getting networking stuff so we can play games together. A silly extravagance, yes, but it also means I can be online while he's playing games, or I can play while he's working on homework. Not a necessity, but certainly useful.)
Oh! I almost forgot the amusing sucky logic story. So, I guess yesterday (yesterday? Was it? I guess it was...wow. My days are MAJORLY blurring together. Derek called today...that'll be today's marker) they watched a documentary on the hallocaust in his documentary class. Jeremy being Jeremy decided to push Xavier's buttons (he's the guy from Belgium who thinks we're all utter morons for believing what we've been taught in school). After class, he said, "I blame Europe for getting us involved in WWII." (I think...he was blaming Europe for something, and obviously a joke - maybe for getting their butts kicked or something as inane. I'll ask tomorrow, as he's been asleep since 10:30 and it's midnight.) Xavier got instantly pissy and said in complete, angry seriousness, "Yeah, well I blame the US for Hiroshima and Nagasaki." And then he stormed off and refused to talk to Jeremy for the rest of the day. That's right. It's our fault we bombed Japan. What an idiot I am. I mean, here I was, thinking it was Russia's fault. Or maybe Thailand's. No, the children of Taiwan are to blame, because maybe they sewed the gloves of the dude who pushed the button. They could have made them faulty so they slipped off and caused a great hullabaloo, but no. They didn't. Darn those Taiwanese kids! I swear, he has the logic abilities of a two-year old. In fact, I believe he also said he blames the soldiers fighting in Iraq for the war just as much as he blames the government. Not just the ones who joined after 9/11. Oh no. The previous recruits were to blame, too. Apparently it's their fault for joining an army that might go to war at some point in the unforeseeable future.
Yar. Chaw on that one.
I miss my email. I hope the router shows up soon...
And all that from a kid I've always liked and stood up for to the other morons in their group. Argh!
:) Anyway, we've pretty much decided that even if we have to stay here another six months to save up, we're getting professionals to move us when Jeremy grajiates. It's way the hell too stressful otherwise. We'll just have a nice, lovely jaunt across the US and let someone else worry about trucks and packing and all that crap.
Oh, and I can't explain the torture of my father's voice in my head that day. Every time I looked at what they did (the first load, anyway; I stopped looking after that and just let Jeremy deal with it), it was like he smacked me upside the head and told me how he couldn't believe a daughter of his would let such a travesty of shoddy packing occur. I KNOW how to pack a truck. I may not be the best at it, but I know how and can generally do a better than average job when given the opportunity. But before I got down there to supervise that first load, they'd already blocked off the over-cab shelf so we couldn't put anything on it, and they had both the leather couch and my headboard against the walls without pads, and my $$$ mattress sitting on the floor without cover. It hurt, let me tell you.
Since then, we've done nothing. I spent the following nights being too exhausted even to fall asleep, and generally drooled on myself while watching tv. I hung up the fancy clothes...and that's it. Everything else is still haphazzardly scattered throughout the apartment. I also spent the first two nights in the throes of a massive anxiety attack from being so totally drained. Poor Jeremy's had to go to class, which means he's been functioning on even less sleep than I have.
I don't have internet yet. This will be posted when it gets turned on, mailed and installed. (We're getting networking stuff so we can play games together. A silly extravagance, yes, but it also means I can be online while he's playing games, or I can play while he's working on homework. Not a necessity, but certainly useful.)
Oh! I almost forgot the amusing sucky logic story. So, I guess yesterday (yesterday? Was it? I guess it was...wow. My days are MAJORLY blurring together. Derek called today...that'll be today's marker) they watched a documentary on the hallocaust in his documentary class. Jeremy being Jeremy decided to push Xavier's buttons (he's the guy from Belgium who thinks we're all utter morons for believing what we've been taught in school). After class, he said, "I blame Europe for getting us involved in WWII." (I think...he was blaming Europe for something, and obviously a joke - maybe for getting their butts kicked or something as inane. I'll ask tomorrow, as he's been asleep since 10:30 and it's midnight.) Xavier got instantly pissy and said in complete, angry seriousness, "Yeah, well I blame the US for Hiroshima and Nagasaki." And then he stormed off and refused to talk to Jeremy for the rest of the day. That's right. It's our fault we bombed Japan. What an idiot I am. I mean, here I was, thinking it was Russia's fault. Or maybe Thailand's. No, the children of Taiwan are to blame, because maybe they sewed the gloves of the dude who pushed the button. They could have made them faulty so they slipped off and caused a great hullabaloo, but no. They didn't. Darn those Taiwanese kids! I swear, he has the logic abilities of a two-year old. In fact, I believe he also said he blames the soldiers fighting in Iraq for the war just as much as he blames the government. Not just the ones who joined after 9/11. Oh no. The previous recruits were to blame, too. Apparently it's their fault for joining an army that might go to war at some point in the unforeseeable future.
Yar. Chaw on that one.
I miss my email. I hope the router shows up soon...