Moving to Georgia–Still a Hot Mess

After unpacking all those boxes, I thought I’d finished with moving troubles. We took a little trip to visit the family¬†in the car.

(I emphasize the mode of transport because for nine years we have lived in places where we could not visit anyone without an arduous overnight plane voyage. {Click here for more on that if you’re interested.} A road trip to see relatives is a cause for celebration for us!)

We came back to the new house after our visit and discovered that a power line had been knocked down in the driveway.

I called the power company, but they said it wasn’t actually a power line. It was some other kind of cable, they said, and it was my problem, not theirs.

So I had to figure out how to get that thing off the driveway myself, since my husband was still in Alaska.

I tried to take care of lifting the cable up and making it stay up. There was a difficult scene that involved a rickety stepladder and some twisty-ties.

If you know me, then you know I am not a thin woman. I was terrified that the stepladder would not hold me. Its wavering and wobbling did not inspire confidence either.

I stepped carefully up, telling myself, “You can do it. You can do it.” I felt like The Very Large Engine That Could Maybe Do This. I wished fervently that my husband were there to take care of this problem.

I finally got up there and twisty-tied the cable as best I could, lifting it from the driveway enough so that at least my car could get in.

Slowly I began to step down off the ladder. As I did, I heard my phone ding; there was a text message from my husband.

“Wow,” I thought. “It’s like we are psychically connected! He knew I was thinking of him. He probably wishes he were here too.”

Then I looked at the message.

I’d forgotten he had one of his friends visiting and they were busily doing FUN STUFF together while I was stuck dealing with all this unpacking and repairing junk.

So much for our psychic connection….

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