Well, The Roster Made It

Yes. Despite my movers' shortcomings and lack of spelling abilities, the Roster has been delivered. And so has the Cristal.


After 8 long months, all of our worldly possessions have been crammed into a 10'x20' storage unit up the road. Or, I should say, they were crammed in there. Tossed and haphazardly stacked is actually a better description. (Apparently me asking them to put the boxes "here" really meant to balance them "there" in between furniture pieces.) The husband and I re-stacked and sorted every single thing in there. And I only cried once over the destruction.

I've since moved on to bewilderment over the stupidity in the situation. Three bookshelves, a bathroom vanity, a computer desk and E's little wooden table all left our house in Georgia in one piece. They arrived here in Ohio in many, many pieces. Some genius along the way took it upon themselves to bust down anything that could come apart - even if it wasn't meant to come apart. Parts of the bookshelves were literally ripped apart. It's not like they were smashed or crushed during the moving process. No. Someone took the time to sit there and pry my kick-ass, heavy duty bookshelves apart.

I still am struggling with the why on that one.

Days were spent opening and resealing boxes, searching for our treasures. My summer clothes, baby clothes for the (rapidly) growing girl, toys for both of them, our good infant carseat and stroller, and so many other things I've missed. I refrained myself on each trip from tossing everything in the bed of the truck, repeating over and over to myself that someday we'll have a place of our own to fill again.

So, that's where I had disappeared to. Hours upon hours in a storage unit . . . and at the pool, and the park, and sleeping, and buried under laundry, and knocking out tons of sewing. But, I'm back . . . and ready to write again . . . while curled up in the most comfortable gliding armchair ever, that somehow hopped into the truck and brought itself home from the storage unit.