I'm getting weary. I thought a solid month of packing time would be sufficient - what the heck happened? I've packed a total of four boxes, and Roger has packed almost two entire rooms and moved them to the new house. I've lost motivation, and the empty boxes are taunting me with yawping cardboard mouths. Reminding me that they need to be filled, and soon.
We had our new furniture and television delivered, and guess what? The furniture I had picked out months ago "didn't quite work" in the living room. Not to mention that I had a double-reclining sofa, which is NOT conducive to having a sofa table behind it. So, after living with the furniture for less than 24 hours, we called the furniture company. They were WONDERFUL, picked up stuff, and let us select new stuff, which they delivered yesterday. It works. And we're one step closer. Why am I so sad?
I went to our old house, plopped down on my grungy couch, and felt right at home. Then I started to feel sad. The rooms Roger had packed felt naked, depressed, bare and lonely. The walls filled with holes where our family pictures had once been seemed to be drooping, having lost their purpose. I suddenly didn't want to leave. I felt as if I was abandoning an old friend, who had carried me thru tough times. I felt like a traitor.
Do you have a police scanner? If so, you'll understand what snapped me out of this funk. Roger popped his head into the living room and uttered words that made my heart stop: "The scanner just reported that there is smoke coming out of the Century 21 building!" He was out the door, flying to my office. Just for clarification, we own the office building where I have my business. To increase the panic, it still has a mortgage.
I sat in shock for a second. Then I started shaking and realized I was hearing sirens. I called the police department to tell them we were on the way. Shaking more, I phoned my firefighter friend, barely able to speak. He told me to relax - reports they were receiving did not indicate that the building was engulfed in flames. I still had to see for myself.
Flying to the office, leaving my 14-year-old daughter asleep in her bed, my mind trying to figure out how to keep business running with no building. Within the 1.2-mile drive, I had a million contingency plans. When I got to the highway, I couldn't see anything but fire trucks and police vehicles. Panic really set in.
But there is good news...my building was safe. The horrible tornadoes that passed thru our state had missed our town, but high winds had broken a furnace vent in the back of our building. The vent was spewing steam against the side, giving the illusion of smoke pouring from the office.
Relieved that I wasn't faced with ANOTHER building project so soon, my adrenaline levels finally stabilized.
And I couldn't wait to get back to my grungy old couch. When the movers come on February 19th, they might have to carry it out with me still sitting on it!