TheCapeBlog

I emptied the passenger seat and the extra cab to make room for Ron and Lizzie. Spent the night with them at the Holiday Inn in Sturbridge. Gorgeous place, good people, including the night manager who checked Lizzie in as an Emotional Support Animal.

We tracked down Ron’s car in Charlton and took out some of his things. Did more today.

The tow company emailed a release form which the desk clerk at the HI printed off after I emailed it to her. I emailed it back and we are now square with the yard. They will coordinate henceforth with GEICO.

The other main thing was to charge Ron’s phone and get batteries for his hearing aids. Done.

On the way back to Williamstown, we stopped for homemade chow at a restaurant in Lanesborough. They allowed Lizzie to lie down next to us and made a nice fuss over her.

I found someone who is willing to transport our storage unit goods to Williamstown. Had good luck on a Wareham FB site.

We did the walk through at Henderson and emptied the truck. Found more issues. I emailed our attorney. We met the next door neighbor who rescued Lizzie when she ran into the road in front of a car. She seems to really like the back yard!

Miss Dog has been hiding her face in the corners of rooms. She was very thirsty tonight.

Ron likes the “project house”.

Nastiness with the owner of the Williamstown motel. May Karma bite him in the butt.

Nice people dropped off food from Burger King (2 orders by mistake, lunch tomorrow I guess) and and pain relievers from Walgreens.

Took 1000 mg of Acetaminophen and an aspirin.

I’ve been screaming in pain since this morning, it is less intense now.

Lots of back and forth on 71 Henderson. And Ron’s rental, which I hope has shown up at his motel by now. And Ron’s Corolla, which I found.

And Ron’s lack of a phone. He’s promised to pick up a burner.

Ron got into an accident on the way to Williamstown last night. He and Lizzie are at the Holiday Inn in Sturbridge. The poor beautiful new car had to be towed, it was leaking fluid.

Ron hadn’t slept the night before, did the packing that should have been done for a week.

I found myself nodding off more than once on the Pike. It’s easy to do, especially at night. I was lucky, didn’t hit anything or run the truck off the road. I did nap briefly at the Ludlow rest stop, gassed up the truck there as well.

Strange thing, I may have heard and seen Ron’s accident. There was a bang and I saw a car careen from one side of the road to the other.

I found the 1896 House easily. Nice people but no heat or hot water in the room, they said I could move next door.

Our friend/realtor Barbara was spectacular. Negotiated more time for us to clear out the house and help load up the truck for the last trip. I was convinced we couldn’t fit it all, but she engineered it brilliantly.

She also found a way to remove the sticky residue from the floors.

The closing went fine as a result and I’m in Williamstown for the second closing. I can’t say all’s well with Ron and Lizzie stranded, though.

I had so many great memories with the grands at 20 Dixon. That’s all in the past now that they are grown up. It still pulls at my heart, but I hope there’ll be more good times ahead on Henderson.

After 21 years, we’ve packed our bags and the rest of our household for a town in the Berkshires.

I picked the location even though the weather isn’t as mild, the tax rate is higher, utilities are more expensive, the local newspaper is just okay, the shopping is less convenient and the house and property we’re moving to are not as nice, at least not yet.

We didn’t move for all reasons that Those In Charge tell you people leave the Cape.

In our mid-70’s, we are leaving a comfortable home, established relationships and familiar territory.  We are not young people who are migrating for better jobs or more affordable housing.

Rather, we left because after 12 years for Hubby and 21 years for me, it still felt that we never had a common understanding with most of the people who live here.

It was like being misinterpreted because you don’t speak the language or “get” the punchline of in-jokes.

Admittedly, we don’t share a common background with a substantial number of people who live in Mashpee or for that matter, the Cape.  In spite of Barnstable County’s allegedly liberal political leanings, being “not the same as” was an impediment to acceptance.

We hope our new town will be more welcoming of diversity, whether it’s ancestral, religious, political or philosophical.  On paper at least, it seems to be.

We will miss the good people we’ve met and the Tribal Leadership’s positive influence on the whole community.

What incredible luck to find these people and this company.

They were fast, unstoppable and oh my gosh, good-humored, unflappable, and beyond decent and kind.

So, Sunday turned out to be not so bad.

We’ll see what happens today.

We looked at each other yesterday and said, “Enough”.

Ron found a packing company online, “Big League Relocators”. They only take Venmo but it was impossible to set up.

The Venmo rep insisted the setup be done on Ron’s mobile phone, and Ron’s phone is too old, won’t load the OS required for the app. We endured almost two hours of BS from the packing company and Venmo, including a refusal to speak with me even though Ron gave permission. Had to hold up the phone to him while he was in the bathroom. Unbelievably shitty customer “service”.

Peter and Bennett dropped by later and said we were lucky that Venmo punked, the packing company was very likely a scam.

I found a local firm who’ll be back today after doing a walk-through yesterday. Fingers crossed.

Barbara came by for keys.

Lost track of the National Grid accounts and I fear their business offices are not open tomorrow (Black Friday).

Not worried about the gas but it’ll be tough if we are without electricity at Henderson.

Have been trying to use Mass Electric’s web portal but it refuses to let me create a new account or identify myself as a current customer.

Funny Thanksgiving message from Cindy.

The perfect Word Wealth word: Ron superciliously announced that the contents of a rumpled paper bag are “very important; they are from California.”

Of course they are.

So far, I’ve packed 30+ boxes, organized four book loads for donation to the Falmouth library, and 1,600 pounds of donations, resale and disposable items.

While we were both downstairs, Lizzie trumped all over the kitchen floor and rugs.

Thought I slept reasonably well last night in two sessions, but I’m knackered today.

Forgot to give the clean-out guys two boxes of recyclables yesterday so after two other tries, was able to drop them off to the Falmouth Service Center resale shop this afternoon.

Was about half an hour later than their drop-off time, but a kind, generous, decent soul took the two boxes anyway. God bless, sir.

I had to sneak the boxes out of the house. Ron is refusing to get rid of anything.

I thought the movers told me they won’t take the mattresses and have come up empty on what to do.

Fortunately, I was wrong.

Early this morning, I packed more boxes of Ron’s LPs and CDs.

Picked up more free boxes from the movers.

Spoke with Gail today to make plans for Monday. Promised to pack everything that can be fit in boxes between now and then.

Have packed 30 boxes so far.

No one, including me, sent the Williamstown attorney the final agreement, so I emailed it to her today.

After today, only four more days to pack.

At least I got my health, hospital indemnity and dental insurance squared away.

Meanwhile, Ron is working on cleaning up the lawn and did exactly the opposite of what I asked.

Workers were here for about 2 1/2 hours yesterday to clear mostly useable goods that we didn’t want to take with us.

This included building materials from the attic and the shed and furniture we’d been storing for Peter and Bonnie.

It cost a small fortune, but at least it won’t go into a landfill.

I think I will miss Davisville Road more than any other street in this area, not only because of its canopy of hardwoods and elegant homes, but because it includes Robert’s old workplace.

From time to time, I looked forward to picking Robert up from work because it gave us time for a brief visit.

It’s almost impossible to compare how I felt about Nonna with how our grands relate to us. They are distant at best, and in James’ case, hostile.

I looked forward to visits with Nonna, loved her apartment and Italian immigrant neighborhood.

Once following an especially bad arms-crossed falling out in Milton, I fled to Nonna’s apartment with baby Peter via public transportation. She was a safe haven for me, and I regret that our grands don’t feel the same way.