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  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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