Distractions

so, I gave up trying to blog. Too much to see and do. My landlord and lady came by to say goodbye shortly after I wrote, and then the neighbor with the new dog (he did not seem pleased by his timing, walking out his door just as we went into the hallway, where he assured them he was just dogsitting), and then another neighbor who hung around and chatted during the brunt of the piano's exit (thank you, distractions.)

Once we came here, I was able to occupy myself in the kitchen, cutting and placing shelf liner, remembering how much I hate doing so (I'm very much a "close enough" kind of person when it comes to measurements, which can squeak by in cooking or sometimes knitting, but has its drawbacks. See, for example, the upper edge of my kitchen wall, where the inexact application of painter's tape created a somewhat loopy meeting of wall color, ceiling color, and oh, yeah, sometimes a sliver of old wall color. Sigh.)

This end was just as smooth as the other, with the piano coming up the stairs first, its only trauma being that induced in the dogs in the apartments it passed, who seemed disturbed by the exclamations of pain and subtle swearing of the movers. They left by 12:30, less than 4 hours from the start.

As long anticipated, I closed the door behind them, slid the latch, and felt myself start to cry in relief, then made myself stop with the sudden fear that they might return for something they forgot. And I didn't even stop to savor the success; I started in on unpacking. I didn't manage to concentrate on any one room, as once I wandered into another, for the scissors or the garbage bag, or to find more hangers or a light bulb or a surge protector, I'd get distracted by another box and start again. Even when I realized I should stop, rest, shower, go out and get food, I kept finding one more thing to do (shower meant finding the box with shampoo and soap in it; calling my mother meant making the bed so I could lie in it; drinking a Diet Coke meant finding a glass.)

In true lunatic fashion, I had a cable appointment yesterday, not to turn on my service, but to disconnect the former owners', which could not be done until their equipment was picked up, and it had to be picked up here, not at the new location where they live. Meanwhile, I couldn't transfer my service or arrange for a service call until they'd arranged for theirs, so by the time I was able to, I could only get an appointment for today, and no, the same person could not do both. Luckily, I plugged in my equipment and could tap into their juice, and even more luckily, when service guy #1 saw that, he offered that he wouldn't disconnect (as instructed in his paperwork) since I was going to have it turned on anyway. I thanked him for being able to watch "Lost."

A show during which I fell asleep. I woke up at 10:08, just after it ended, and rewound to watch again, only to continually doze off again and again. Part of me fears it was a boring episode, but I'll reserve judgment until a more formal viewing.

Then, to bed, and a fairly smooth lapse into sleep, until, naturally, waking up about a half hour ago. New noises, new sensations, much to get used to.