It's like Christmas

Chris got up early, and so did I, although not as early as he did. After breakfast, he left for the rental house, stopping on the way to get toilet paper. I finished my breakfast, then went over there, too, bringing some seaweed and pistachios for lunch. The truck arrived around 9. It was smaller than the one I remember three years ago picking up our stuff. The driver gave Chris a ream of sheets with numbers on it. He had to cross them off as the men brought items off the truck. My job was to tell them where to put each thing. I could not believe that a truck so small could contain so many items. But they had it packed like a 3-D tetris game with boxes of different sizes and shapes. They worked hard bringing in all the boxes of books. But they worked even harder carrying in the piano. Lucky for them it is a small one. I played it a little, and it is still in tune, even C'' which went flat a week after I had it tuned 4 years ago. (I re-tuned it myself) I stayed awake last night mentally placing furniture in the house. Then when I got there, the room sizes were different from what I had imagined. Still, we put the dining room furniture and livingroom furniture in analogous places to where they had been in Pinehurst. The den was a different story. I was imagining it in the room next to the kitchen. But the way the doors are placed, there is no wall long enough for the couch and both end tables. But Chris was thinking outside the box. He imagined it downstairs in the basement. Interesting idea. Now what does that make the room by the kitchen? When the movers left, we opened boxes. Chris went to sign up the utilities in our name. I was in the basement separating the fabric boxes from the Christmas boxes, from the tool boxes, from the extra book boxes, etc. when the doorbell rang. Two men had come to deliver the sleeper sofa that I bought at the thrift shop. It was heavier than they thought. They had quite a time getting it around the bottom of the steps into the back of the basement to where Chris imagined the den to be. I took pics, but apparently I left my camera there. After they left, Chris got back. Then I opened boxes in the master bedroom (hanging clothes) and Chris worked in the kitchen. Every time I came across one of Michele's boxes I would burst into tears. I stopped opening them. Chris says we don't need to keep any of them 'cause all Michele said she wanted were her books. Still, it is hard to see the remnants of her childhood.... Anyway, going back to our boxes, each one was marked with the major contents of the box: yarn, lampshades, art flowers (?), mirror, clothes, etc. I started thinking they should be marked: stuff, more stuff, stuff we don't need, stuff nobody needs, stuff we thought we needed, stuff we didn't know we had, stuff that could belong to someone else, stuff that needs to belong to someone else, etc. It was kind of like Christmas. Each box could contain a wonderful gift, or it might just be a gag gift. But there were too many boxes. Chris put as many of the kitchen items in the dishwasher as would fit. He ran it, and it leaked all over the floor. Fortunately, a mop was among the items delivered. He called the real estate agent and she sent her husband over. He was able to fix it by clearing out the filter so it could drain properly. When he left, so did we. We were tired and hungry. And it was raining. We ate at the apartment. Then Chris drove me to the quilt group meeting. I was too tired to stay, but I paid Deb for my part of the thread order she placed. We returned to the apartment to watch episodes of Big Bang Theory. Then he went to bed, while I stayed up to search for my camera and post to my blog. I guess I will have visions of boxes dancing in my head when I go to bed tonight.