Moving, Take Two

The second time's (so far) the charm: Chester and I are in the (mostly) empty apartment. He's not much help taking shelfs down and removing nails from walls and packing up remaining junque, but that may be because, during the loading of items, his corrugated cardboard catnip scratcher was overturned once or twice, leaving a catnip zone, of sorts, in which he promptly rolled upon being released from protective custody in the bathroom. So he's too stoned to be as helpful as I'm sure he'd ordinarily be.

I can always give him another hit later if he starts to flip out---we immediately skim off the lion's share of the 'nip when we get one of those things & store the rest in a baggie in the fridge. Not only does he then have a stash, but that huge excess of herbage isn't messing things up and frying his brain like, say, an egg in a pan.

Funny image to have in mind, huh; wonder where that comes from.

So H. is at the new place, where the (so far very professional) moving team has probably arrived by now after lunch. Took 'em about 3 hours to load up the 24' truck and a van. Tightly and full. Holly now says, as she says whenever we move, that we must now begin getting rid of stuff so that next time we still fit into 1 truck. But then we move in and acquire more---usually more furniture, so paring down 5 or 10 boxes in storage doesn't compensate.

Back to't now (including packing up the 'puter). Looking fwd to going to work tomorrow, where all is as it was and there's no problem finding a pencil or my coffee mug or something to think about other than boxes and dirt.

Moving, Take Two

The second time's (so far) the charm: Chester and I are in the (mostly) empty apartment. He's not much help taking shelfs down and removing nails from walls and packing up remaining junque, but that may be because, during the loading of items, his corrugated cardboard catnip scratcher was overturned once or twice, leaving a catnip zone, of sorts, in which he promptly rolled upon being released from protective custody in the bathroom. So he's too stoned to be as helpful as I'm sure he'd ordinarily be.

I can always give him another hit later if he starts to flip out---we immediately skim off the lion's share of the 'nip when we get one of those things & store the rest in a baggie in the fridge. Not only does he then have a stash, but that huge excess of herbage isn't messing things up and frying his brain like, say, an egg in a pan.

Funny image to have in mind, huh; wonder where that comes from.

So H. is at the new place, where the (so far very professional) moving team has probably arrived by now after lunch. Took 'em about 3 hours to load up the 24' truck and a van. Tightly and full. Holly now says, as she says whenever we move, that we must now begin getting rid of stuff so that next time we still fit into 1 truck. But then we move in and acquire more---usually more furniture, so paring down 5 or 10 boxes in storage doesn't compensate.

Back to't now (including packing up the 'puter). Looking fwd to going to work tomorrow, where all is as it was and there's no problem finding a pencil or my coffee mug or something to think about other than boxes and dirt.