I Wasn't Kidding

In a previous post I mentioned that my Mom, spasming because she can't unpack my moving boxes, chose to hang art in desperation.  I wasn't kidding.  Here are examples:

Ah, yes.  On the left (you can barely see it from the side), my "Wizard of Oz" movie poster at the top of the stairs.  In the middle, a Dr. Seuss print.  To the right, a mirror.  Everywhere else?  Boxes.

This was a hard picture to take.  I'm not even sure how my Mom got back in there to hang my print of the Literary Festival of Oxford, England.  (Hi, Kendra!)  But she managed it.  Oh, yes, she did.

You Can't Lay Your Head Just Anywhere

As those of you with cats know, it's extremely important for a cat to decide what her official napping/sleeping/sprawling place will be.  Sterling has, so far, tried out the following options:

This is bedroom closet #1.  Poor Sterling.  Once I can actually unpack, this won't be nearly so cozy.

Of course, the bed.  Can you tell that she had a really exhausting day.  She felt the need for true sleep after napping all day.

This will be Sterling's personal dormer window, though it won't be nearly as hidden (she's actually behind a wall of boxes) once I've unpacked.

Closet #2!  You can sort of tell, but the side she's chosen to sprawl in is the side where all of the clothing (and scarves) drag just a little on the floor.  Weird.

Once again, this won't be nearly so cozy once the boxes aren't there.

Poor Sterling.  Once I am unpacked and settled in (that will happen one day, right?), she's going to have to start her hunt all over again.

Many of you have met Sterling and know she is not the cuddly type.  Here are a few bonus pictures of me torturing her with love.

As you can see, she looooves hugs.

She hates having her tummy shown, but isn't it cute?  You may be amazed, but I did not, in fact, lose a limb after I let her go.

Small Town Life: Example 6

Apparently Small Town Life extends even beyond the Small Town itself!  My Mom was at the closest Home Depot (in neighboring Seabrook, NH) for about the 1,000th time.  She got to talking to one of the employees there, and it turned out he had grown up next door to the home I just bought. 

Good grief!

Small Town Life: Example 5

Before the movers arrived on Friday morning, our electrician arrived.  The city inspector was coming to review the electrical work.  The electrician realized he had forgotten a part, so called his Grandpa Joe, who brought it to him.  Obviously, he met my Mom.

On Saturday, we were unpacking and heard a knock at the door.  It was Grandpa Joe!  Just visiting and making sure we were okay after the storm.  Just stopped by.

This is actually a very nice and thoughtful thing to do.  I'm just not used to people popping in to visit.  This Small Town Life is going to take some getting used to.

The Tragi-Comedy of Shannon Schinagl: Part 7

Friday night, after a full day of work for me, and the trauma of the movers for my Mom, we went to bed pretty early.  We were both awakened by a violent storm that seemed to come out of nowhere.  Thunder, lightning, vertical rain -- it was all there!  As I lay in bed, there was a deafening explosion accompanied by huge flash, followed by what sounded like another explosion and fireworks.

I ran to the window to discover that lightning had struck a tree in the neighbor's yard, and part of the tree fell on the power lines, pulled them all down, and fell across the street.  Immediately we lost power.  No fans, no AC.  Sigh...

About an hour later the rain was over, and we had an hour of chainsaws chopping up the tree and being loaded on to a truck.  Fast, huh?  I've heard the Mayor lives on my street. Ha!

The next morning we learned that not only had the tree pulled down the power lines, but because the tree was right next to the house, it yanked the power box right off my house.  The power box that houses all of the power wires, cable lines, and phone lines.

Poor, huge tree.  One-third gone in an instant.

The remnants of our house of wires.

Well, it's been hot as all get out here, with about 1,000 percent humidity, so my Mom and I were not about to stay home.  We ran a morning and afternoon of errands, came home, and voila!  Power!  Yahoo!

At this point, my Mom started twitching.  She wanted to unpack boxes so badly (those of you who know her know how much those full boxes affected her), but we were limited in what we could do.  The construction guys had packed all of their stuff away into the three living room closets and we still had no kitchen.

I unpacked my desk, and my Mom hung art. What, you say?  Your Mom hung art?  Yes, she did.  My place looks like a bomb went off, but art is hanging on the walls!

Sterling was still behaving and, in fact, thrilled with all of the boxes and furniture.  She is treating it like her personal playground, and reveling in her ability to squeeze into places we can't.

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Will Shannon and her Mom be able to unpack any more boxes before Mom can't take it any more?

Will Sterling continue behaving?

Keep reading...

Small Town Life: Example 4

The workers doing the construction on my place had removed the railings from the second floor to the third.  The railings needed to be painted, as well as the walls.  This meant that my Mom and I were using the outside stairs.  If you recall, I have a bum foot, and my Mom is still recovering from a hip replacement.  We needed railings.

So we hadn't noticed that the movers had left my inside door open.  (Andresen Movers).  Saturday morning, my downstairs neighbor was concerned for us (allegedly) since the door was open and popped right in!  Just right on in!  Around 8 am on Saturday morning!  My Mom, sleeping in the living room, was the one to discover my neighbor had invited herself in, so had just enough time to wrap a sheet around herself (we were both wearing summer PJs, aka a tank top and undies) before the neighbor came right up the steps.

I appreciated the concern, but...huh.

The Tragi-Comedy of Shannon Schinagl: Part 6

Friday.  Moving Day.  Well, Moving Day assuming all went well.

My Mom called periodically to give me updates.  Amazingly, everything went smoothly, even the hoisting, until the end.  I was in a meeting when one of my colleagues called to say my Mom was on the phone.  Oh, dear.  Something must really be wrong if my Mom called the library number.  She told me that the head mover wanted the extra money for the extra guys right now.  That very minute.  I had assumed I would be billed, or they would add the cost to my credit card.  This head mover -- get ready -- threatened my Mom by getting belligerent and threatening to have all of my stuff moved back down to the moving van if he didn't get paid right then and there.  He actually said that!

To add insult to injury, as my Mom was on the phone with me figuring out what to do, the head mover informed her that another half-hour had just ticked by, so the cost just went up as they were sitting there.

My Mom hopped in the car, raced to the library, I wrote a check, she zoomed back to the movers, and they left.

What assholes!  Actually, she said the movers were extremely nice, except for Patrick, the head mover.  Again, this was Andresen Movers.

Well, at least I had my stuff.  All my stuff!  Which was everywhere!

You can bet we moved a few of these boxes.  They're blocking part of the almighty air conditioner!

A bed!  A bed!  My air mattress was really, really nice as air mattresses go, but...a bed!

Sterling is still behaving, and quite enamored with all of the boxes and furniture.