Adventure

Ten AM on Sat morning, I'm showering, getting ready to head up to the lovely MK's place to help her move.
Nick pokes his head in. "I'm leaving for my bike ride."
We say a quick goodbye.*

Five minutes later (no really, I get ready pretty quick, I'm low-maintainance [lazy?] that way) I was gathering my things together and couldn't find my car keys.
Anywhere.

After a thorough ransacking of my own house, I realized that Nick must have left with them, by accident. Along with the only working phone in the house at the moment. (Winston has complex emotional issues that keep him from functioning normally from time to time. I'm understanding, because frankly, I have days like that too sometimes.)

So Nick had my keys and I couldn't call him, or go find him.

I had no choice but to sit and wait.

Was I annoyed? Frustrated a bit I suppose, but only until the moment Nick opened the door, wheezing and apologizing. He'd ridden for an hour and a half, stuck his hand in his pocket,* realized he had the keys, and gotten all the way back home (uphill) in only 45 minutes. I couldn't be upset.

I called MK and told her I was NOW on my way.
Winston revived, and I asked Nick to text me MK's number because I didn't have it in my phone, only his.

A little over two hours later, I called MK to let her know I was in front of her old apartment. It went straight to voice mail. Nobody was there.

I did some Fill-In puzzles,* soaked up so sun, left a few more messages for MK. Two hours later, I was officially frustrated. It was now after 4pm. I called Nick and asked him to double check the number he'd text to me.

Oops. There was the trouble. Nick had sent the wrong number and I'd been leaving messages for some random person.
Nick felt really bad, but hey, how could I be mad? I make ridiculous mistakes all the time, like the time I killed Nick's hard-drive, or hogtied myself to my own desk.*

I called the real MK, got directions to her new place, and arrived just in time to not have to carry anything upstairs. Sweet.

General arranging and unpacking ensued, mostly of heads* (MK has lots of them). Also mischief, and one game of Hangman which I believe was pivotal in the unseen war of Good vs. Evil. Also, a margarita. Also, the words, "unlike most people I wouldn't define 'terrible' and 'awesome' as being at opposite ends of a spectrum." Also, shirt swapping. * Also, poodle swapping.

Naturally, most of my pictures were erased by the KGB, fearful of incrimination, but one survived.
It's of the boobie power plant* on the way up.
I call it, "Boobies in the Mist."



So. All that just to say that I think I'm going to keep prank calling that number I thought was MK's.










*not a euphemism

I'm a bit slow on the uptake.

We had a bit of heat wave lately. Not that heat is unusual here, or that it's even really that hot, but it was a bit hotter than it generally is in March. It's been about 95, 96 degrees the past couple days.

On Sunday, I figured it really was time for all the boxes to be unpacked. I mean, we've lived there two and a half months now. And I was only sick for one of those months, so really, I'm out of excuses. So I busted my (cute) little (well, maybe not little but certainly endearing and love able) tush and emptied out the last of the boxes. A large percentage I emptied straight into the trash or donation bins because, lets face it, I can't have missed it that much in the past two months or I would have dug it out.

I actually have a usable closet now, instead of a cat fort of boxes overflowing out into the bedroom. Wooo-hoooo! Woooo-hooooo for me! Not so much woooooo-hoooooooo for Mau, who misses the cardboard cat fort. I found a box of blankets that he had somehow burrowed into, like Saddam, or Bin Ladin.

Anyway, as I was doing all this, I got really hot and sweaty. I tried to figure out why. Had I accidentally turned the heat on? That happened once in my old Postage Stamp apartment, the heat was so rarely used that it had been painted over and I only discovered it in the middle of the night when I woke up in what felt like a sauna, because I had accidentally bumped it on earlier while using it to hang a Christmas decoration.
Was the oven on? Were all the appliances heating the place up? The heat lamp in the bathroom?

Nope.

I didn't get it until I walked outside.

"OooooooooOOOOooooh. It's hot inside because it's a HOT DAY."

"Done Moving"

Is there a more beautiful combination of words ever in the history of the English language?

I Love My New Neighbors.

Like, a lot. I wanna make that clear before I refer to them as 'rednecks,' which I often will because a.) they are, and b.) I don't mean it in an insulting way.
We're just very different, that's all.

Like, they drink cheap beer and I drink cheap wine. They always wear cowboy hats and speak in inexplicable southern accents and I don't, except for on rare occasion. They are amused for hours by riding a dirtbike back and forth across a ten foot yard, and I am amused for hours by watching them ride back and forth across a ten foot yard. They have two pickup trucks on average per person, which came in handy to haul all my boxes of books.

Yeah, they helped me move. And in my book, there is no higher class of human being than those who help me schlep my shit.

Mexico, Here I Come.

Ok, so we planned this trip before we realized it would also be the weekend we'd be moving.

And instead of looking forward to it, it became this logistical nightmare.
No, we couldn't move earlier or later.

Nick said there was no way we should both be sitting at home while the trip (partly already paid for) went on without us, and since it's my tradition with my brother, I should go. I said I wouldn't feel right about partying in Mexico while he's at home schlepping what is mostly my stuff anyway.

So I'm going by myself, and coming back tomorrow night.
(And another trip with all of us is in the works, 'cause if anybody should have a vacation to Mexico, it's my Knickers.)

Anyway, this morning was the first time since we found out that we're moving that I've been able to think of this as anything but a logistical nightmare.

I'm going to Mexico, baby!
I can taste the street tacos already!

(Sidenote - Oddly enough, "street tacos" is not a euphemism for anything. It actually means a taco purchased from a street vendor. Huh. Odd. Seems like it should mean something else.)

Tonight, I will be sitting in a hot tub with a swim-up bar and a view of the Pacific Ocean. Tomorrow, I will be bartering for churros, silver bracelets and possibly a small burro.
Ahhhhh. Life as it should be.

I leave you with this song.
It's about the new year, three wishes, and good times arriving.
And it's my wish for you.

It's A Long Story, But We're Moving. AGAIN.

The short version is that they're building a freeway through our place. Seriously. Right through it.

I hate moving. I know I've mentioned it before, how it rips my soul from it's moors and bruises the very spirit of my fingers. I'm morally opposed to carrying heavy things. And I hate the disruption of new addresses and stuff in boxes.

But that said, I really like our new place. It's a "granny flat" house behind a main house. Another couple is renting the front house, and they're very friendly and fun. They have two dogs, so Luca will have buddies! The yard is huge and the bedroom has skylights.
And get this. We'll have a whirlpool tub.
This thrills my little heart, right down to the ventricles.

And so while I DREAD the idea of moving AGAIN, I'll be glad once it's done. And that new freeway over our flying caravan, it'll cut our commute from the new place down.