Circular Thinking

The past week and a half have been the whirlwind that moving is with the added bonus of trying to paint at the same time.  

For about a week, Chris and I tried hard to do everything.  That included formal work, painting, moving, and procuring sustenance.  Each day I got up at whatever time was needed, did my appointment or work for which I needed to get up (one of my jobs really took a hit and I haven't even looked at it in the past two weeks), then drove myself and the dog to the house where I tried to alternate formal work with painting; but mostly I just painted.  Chris joined me there when he could get out of his work and we painted until we were so late the feed the cats that we feared for our toes upon arriving back at the apartment.

One Angel or Buffy later and then to sleep, usually without enough energy to listen to our pre-somnolence audiobook.  Next day, wash, rinse, repeat.

Moving created a challenge in and of itself.  I am certain that any adult and probably some younger folks reading this already know how awful moving is, so I won't bore you with the nitty gritty.  Chris recalled doing some research into movers a few weeks ago and said that one place had a price tag of $300.  The problem was that he couldn't remember what moving company it was.  

I did some research and found myself inundated with moving company emails ranging from $120 an hour to $1400 for the whole trip.  This made it confusing because in many cases, you couldn't really compare the prices, but one thing was clear: $300 wasn't in the cards.  Or rather, it was in the cards, but there were more cards than those... if that makes sense.

It was coming down to time and we didn't have movers, so I put my godmother, Amy-the-Awesome, on the job.  She excels at this kind of research.  Anytime I need to know the best small microwave or the most effective grasshopper attractant, I can ask Amy to figure it out. 

Hop hop

She did her thing and managed to find a mover who would move us for $109 an hour -if we paid cash.  That was better, for sure, but we estimated that it would still be at least $700 for our whole move, what with the amount of stuff and the double charge for driving time.  And we needed to cut branches off some trees in our driveway so the truck wouldn't be scratched.  

Anyway, long story short, a friend showed us a service called TaskRabbit.  We ended up renting two Uhaul trucks.  One for Sunday to use when our friend with a hale body was available, and one for Tuesday when we hired five "Taskers" to load and unload stuff.  All in all we probably saved about $200.  And then there were our exceptional friends who tossed $300 into the pot for moving and basically, phew!  We made it.

The pets came with me in the car as Chris drove his bike.  The cats in their respective carriers, were strapped into the front seat.  The dog shared the back seat with an enormous pile of awkward things that needed moving but were too fragile for the truck.  The cats sang the old favorite Everything is Terrible and You Are a Vile Meatbag Full of Foul Air!

So, our bed was in the new house Tuesday, therefore so were we.  But that doesn't mean that we were done with the apartment.  There was actually plenty more to pack and then, the dreaded exit cleaning.  We knew we'd left most of the kitchen to pack and a lot of the bathroom, but we had to rely on Paul and his trusty vehicle of space again when we were setting up the bedroom by moving my drawers and Chris said "where's my dresser?"

I'd like to state here that everyone forgets sometimes.  We all know that.  In fact, it wasn't until Chris and I were together about three years that I learned there's a sadly high number of times that I repeat myself to him.  Or rather, he finds it necessary to repeat things to me because I ask him the same questions over five times and until he tells me that he's told me this same thing five times, I have zero recollection of such conversations.  And also... I wasn't at my best after moving Tuesday.  Moving is terrible, it was a long day, but in that moment... I just felt like I couldn't rely on his project management skills.  

Why was it his responsibility to remember his dresser?  Well, mostly because he was directing the Taskers, and I didn't want to think I was responsible.  Though I will say that I was a little surprised when I was returning from putting something in the car and they streamed out, job finished.  But it's a moot point.  The thing is, we got the dresser the next day and put it into Paul's vehicle of space.

We all had a fitful night in the new house.  The cats, not yet trusted in the main part of the house, were locked into our room with us and the dog.  We all listened to the surprisingly high amount of traffic that lasted the night, and incongruously, also the cricket song.  

So we moved for two more days, and cleaned for two days, and now we're out.  Here are some notable tales from the week.

Shoes

Apparently my feet can no longer shoe.  For whatever reason, my feet being in shoes for the duration and work we have been doing equals extremely itchy top foot.  Which I then scratch.  Which then becomes bruised and bloody since the skin isn't that tough there.  This is sad because it's not like I could go without shoes to move.  I would have tried my sandals, but they were packed goodness knows where!

I'm guessing it was lack of blood flow...

Settling In and Meeting Old Friends

The dog had a step up settling in because he'd already been to the house about a dozen times.  The cats took a bit longer.  Maybe a day and a half, and in some ways they're still settling.  One had to explore everything.

But how did he get up there?

The other resumed her normal life as soon as we could find the necessary equipment.

We found some things we haven't unpacked in the three years we have lived in CA because we had no room.  These were welcome finds.

They love the body pillow so much I barely get to use it

Kate's Tips for Painting

• Paint naked -you are more easily washed than clothes and it's sweaty work
• Do NOT walk in on your partner doing a Zoom interview when you've been painting thusly (very awkward)
• Take two extra steps in place before you step off the drop cloth and check for a footprint
• Textured walls can go get frigged in a bush of stinging nettles!  
• If you get a nice roller with a good nap, you don't want to press hard and depress the nap entirely because then it covers less well
• If you don't press hard, the deep bits in your alluringly textured wall won't get painted and then you have white spots
• Ditto popcorn ceilings that slyly creep down the wall's edge making edging a precise line impossible
• Never stretch to paint an edge.  You will eff it up
• Painter's tape is your friend
• Latex paint boogers that glorp out of your can into your tray are a sad fact
• Pray your dog responds to the command "BACK!"
• Pray your cats don't get interested
• When your cat gets interested and needs paint washed off, pray it's the one that won't practice unlicensed acupuncture on you while you do
• Even if you buy the expensive, one-coat paint, if your rollers fail to actually roll every time, you get weird tool marks that you then have to paint over anyway

This wall is actually darker.  Idk why the camera thought it was this color

• Make up funny names for your colors like: Premature Grey, Old Lady Bluing Agent, I'm So Blue, I Painted My Wall This Color, Unclean Green, Greenous Weenis, The Fog Rolled In, The Dog Farted, Cadmium Can Kill You, Calm Calamity, and others.
• Use a small art brush to fix issues in tiny spaces, like edges and around decorative thingies
• When using painter's tape, paint away and perpendicular to the edge so that you get less bleed under
• Painter's edging tools are either crap or I can't use them for crap
• When your partner generally wants all grey walls, compromise by giving up the color you might describe as The Palest Pink in the World, but do insist on something other than grey (unless you too want all grey)
• Make sure you have a tray that fits your roller.  We got some paint supplies cheap from FB Marketplace and there was a 12" roller.  "Great!" we thought.  "Painting will be faster with a larger roller."  Except there aren't any 12" trays at the stores that be.  You either get too small or too large and either way you don't get the right amount of paint on the roller.  You end up with a roller that has no paint in the middle regardless.  Super if you wanted to paint a plaid wall, but not so great for all one color walls.
• Pets are the worst critics.  They will find every place you accidentally dripped paint on the floor or baseboard, then sniff and try to eat it.

The Terrible Day

Wednesday was awful y'all!  Wednesday morning I figured out that it was the last time Chris would get paid before our mortgage is due on the first.  Except for the first.  I mean, he'll get paid on the first but there's no telling if the bank will process his payment first or the mortgage bill (yes, I called and they can not tell me which will be processed first either).  That means that we had $300 left for the two weeks of this month.  I could easily use that much for groceries in two weeks, and we needed more paint because it's hella stressful having the home be a disaster area and unpacking is belabored by the need to paint the remaining walls.

This realization did nothing for my anxiety about having not worked much in the past two weeks because I was instead working on this move.  It also did little for my lurking suspicion that indeed, I am not Enough, nor can I ever be Enough; and furthermore I am unsuccessful because I can not make enough money to provide for myself, and if I could just need less sleep and basically tough it out better, I would be able to make at least enough money which would make me worthy.

I then had a phone appointment with my psychiatrist.  I'm not big on this psych, but he's done ok by me so far.  When I put my foot down he does support what I want to do, which has been useful.  So, he asked how I am and I said that I felt the medication was doing its job but that I have been having difficulty with anxiety.  He asked what I've been doing and so I told him all the stressful things I've been doing and he acknowledged that these are very anxiety producing things and there's indeed no way anyone would be doing better in such circumstances.  And that was nice.  I actually had a moment where I felt heard and understood and I started to open up to him.

Then he indicated that, as an adult, I should have expected these to be very difficult times and taken precautions to shield myself from them.  For instance, I mentioned as I have three jobs and he basically indicated that that was ridiculous, but he failed to ask about the circumstances of the jobs (why I originally thought I could do them all at once) and also failed to address why I'd even want three jobs (my financial situation).  Thus chastised, I clammed right back up again.  I nearly started crying.

He talked about what he could do for me, which was to prescribe a supporting medication to go along with my current med.  He said it would probably help with the energy and motivation.  I was all for this.  He named it with its generic name so I had agreed to it and didn't realize until he used the brand name that this is a medication he put me on maybe a year ago and it affected me horribly.

But I was already all clammed up and had agreed to it and wasn't sure what to say... and besides, maybe it would behave differently with my current med than the one I was on before?  But I couldn't quite help wondering why he didn't remember that he'd put me on this before.  We had a strange cranky miscommunication about when to take the pill and then we were done.  I haven't filled the prescription yet.  I honestly don't know what to do.

Then I drove the 40 minutes to the apartment where Chris was already packing up some things.  I remembered as I drove into the parking lot that I'd failed to bring the garbage with me.  You see, we were lacking our garbage can (something we were going to take from the apartment that day).  So, we'd been using a garbage bag and sticking it in the oven to keep the animals from snacking on it.  Munchy had indeed pulled out some chicken bones the previous night and had to be reprimanded.  Not only had I failed to bring the garbage, I'd failed to put it in the oven where it was cat-safe.

I fearfully told Chris this whilst imagining $4K vet bills for chicken bone punctured intestines, on top of our mortgage that might or might not get paid depending on when Chris's paycheck was processed.  Chris decided that he'd drive the 40 minutes back to the house to fix the garbage issue, then come the 40 minutes back to the apartment to pack.  I couldn't because I had to go see the periodontist.  I felt horribly guilty that Chris would have to drive so much, and I worried about the gas cost, and I worried that I'd managed to kill one or more of the pets.

The periodontal assistant assessed my general understanding of the various teeth charts and numbering system they use, which I do understand.  Then, seeing that I understood it, he proceeded to explain it to me anyway.  He asked about my flossing habits, and after telling him that I do floss every night, he told me that I need to floss every night.

The numbers is how many mm deep your gum pocket is around a tooth

The periodontist came in and assessed my understanding of the various teeth charts and numbering system, which I understand.  Then, seeing that I understood, she explained it to me.  She used new charts, that showed nothing new.  Then she examined my mouth, probing painfully into my gums.  

She explained that there are two problems with my gums.  First, I have deeper pockets than wanted.  This basically means that sooner, rather than later, I'll lose teeth.  Like, maybe in my 60s.

Yep, just gouge that probe right in there

Second, my gums are beating a hasty retreat towards the bone other than pocketing, meaning that sooner, rather than later, I'm going to look like the Creepy Skull No. 7 from McSkipper's Scare You Silly Emporium.

It's called recession like many other unpleasant things

"So, " she says, "we can't bring back what's lost, and I think the pockets will take care of themselves, but we can prevent more recession by putting gum tissue from the roof of your mouth or a donor, into your gums because your gum tissue is very thin in some places."  I asked a multitude of questions and, with general comprehension, the insurance person came in to tell me how much it would cost.

With insurance, just half of my mouth (because you can't do it all at once because of needing to eat) would cost $4,989.  I started to cry.  I have good dental insurance, and it was definitely taking a lot off the bill, but when I'm stressed about not having worked, and even when I do work I can't make enough money to really support us, and I'm unsure if our first dang mortgage payment will actually get paid on time because of bank timing... and maybe we have to save our family member from the evil chicken bones that *I* left out, and Chris has needed dental surgery for years that he's put off I think because of money... Weeell, I kinda' lost it.

The insurance person sent me home with a brochure for a dental loan.  

The good news is that the animals are fine.  They'd clearly dragged the bag over, but somehow the fact that it was tied stopped them from exploring further at that time.  Chris made sure it was not accessible thereafter.  

We've Discovered New Things About Our Home

I am discovering that, with furniture and belongings, we have less space than originally imagined.  This isn't really a surprise, but it is sad when I discover that my plans for home set up look vastly different (and not good) when they're actually put into action.  There have been many discoveries like "why did they put that vent there?" and "Why isn't there an outlet near here?"  Also, the slanted ceiling is a challenge for things like our shower caddy that presses up against the ceiling to hold it in place.

We have discovered the outlet in the bathroom doesn't work (very sad for my water-flosser which I think is helping with my gum disease...), there's no good place in the kitchen for a garbage can or recycling, the sellers liked Scott toilet paper (anyone need a lot of Scott toilet paper?), the dishwasher, while it doesn't close easily, is super quiet!, we love the premature grey color we picked out for most of the walls, there's a septic smell that has us concerned, our new shopping center is relatively convenient and feels like an entirely different culture despite being the same stores, our home is much cooler and breezier than where we were living only 29 miles away, there is much more we'd like to change about this home than we have time or money for.

Did I not call this?

You know what I love?  Not constantly having to think about reversibility when you change something about your home.  We're going to screw our spice racks into the cabinets because there isn't another good place for them and I don't care that there will then be holes in the cabinets.  Likely, we're going to keep the spice racks there, and even if we didn't, I don't really care about some screw holes in cabinets that are crappy anyway.  

Also, it seems to me that all of our baseboard seems to be painted different colors.  They all seemed white, but sometimes they seem grey or even a light... soft yellow color.  I don't care.  When I splooge color on them, I still cover it with white primer.  If I care later, I'll just repaint them all with white primer.  Or replace them with wood that's still the color of wood.

More surprise gifts from the sellers. Yes, those tweezers are extremely rusty.  I'm concerned for the seller's nose hairs.

I recognize that some of this sounds quite negative.  And some negative things have happened, or been felt, and also sometimes it's the negative stuff that is most amusing so I make point of it.  But also this time is a time of reinvention.

There have been times in my life that I've been able to feel a strange calm.  A centered calm that feels powerful and like there's space to breathe.  Notably this happens more when I've been someplace lovely like the Kripalu Center where I don't have to worry about making food or cleaning but doing yoga or meditation or doing some experiential thing all day.  

This home feels like a strange combo of my childhood and my adult life, where I have land all around me but instead of being stuck and lonely, I can get in the car and go where I need.  I felt that strange calm riding home from our new shopping center yesterday.  My hope is that it is more than a fleeting feeling this time.  That it will visit more frequently and stay for longer than I've experienced before.