Except for a few things we had to leave in a Wareham storage unit, 99.9% of our goods are in Williamstown.
The moving crew made it back safely. I would have lost my mind if it hadn’t been for young Gino and Mark. Their good humor kept us going. Mark had it right: doesn’t seem like it now, but having all our things here is a blessing.
There were some heavy items that Ron and I were able to haul upstairs, with leverage and a bit of cleverness, like figuring out how to remove heavy metal file drawers.
I was up early to unpack yesterday. By evening I really had lost it, screamed and screamed and screamed.
The hunt for everything – spoons, meds, towels – wore me to a shred.
Ron refused to go out, repeating his refrain of the week: couldn’t charge his phone so he had no GPS, the rental car didn’t show up, on and on. The moving company guy wasn’t much better, complained endlessly about how he would have brought a drill if he’d known about moving the king bed. As if it’s normal for a moving company to not have a toolbox on their truck.
Ron barricaded the part of the living room where I’m sitting so Liz couldn’t trump and leak on it again.
One of the movers found the switches for the garage doors, which was fantastic. It’s full of stuff again, only this time, ours.
Along the way I gave myself quite a knock on the left side of my head.
We still haven’t done a food shop. Yesterday evening we did a DoorDash from a local Chinese restaurant, and the meals were topnotch.
I found my meds for the week. I stupidly left behind a big suitcase with all kinds of essentials. A gent from Wareham agreed to transport it along with everything else from the storage unit; I’m sending him a key today.
Ryan dropped by yesterday on his way back from New York. Nice to meet him in person.