Monday,
February 12, 2001

Down time

As in, how this weekend was spent. As in, I needed it desperately. As in, time that was used to unkink my head, do some writing, and get furniture like a papasan chair and matching footstool (as pictured below, only mine is in hunter green and situated in the corner of the room with two windows so I get tons of natural reading light. Talk about luxury) as I was tired of wheeling the office chair into the living room just to watch TV (I eat dinner, read and work in it as it is. The chair, not the living room).

But don't we have a house full of furniture somewhere, just waiting to be delivered, I hear you ask? Quite, and in fact I called Allied on Thursday to find out when it could be delivered. The downy lamb who took my call said that she had to check the schedule and see when they could deliver my furniture, and would send me that info in an email posthaste.

I spent the weekend waiting for said email (mainly because there was supposed to be storage fees due on the stuff and I needed to get my moving bonus from Ericsson to pay them). No email. Whatsoever.

I figure they must be busy (which is unsurprising -- this area is having a huge housing boom and people are moving in at a rate of knots), and I'll hear from them sometime next week, hopefully with full details on when a moving team would be arriving at my house with my stuff.

Ha. Ha ha ha.

I get to work this morning. Trundle through various tasks, then start to wonder what I'm going to do for lunch, when the phone rings.

It's Allied. The movers have been at the townhouse since 8:30 am this morning, and where am I?

I explained that I never received my email confirmation about when I could expect same movers. "But we talked to you about it on Thursday and Friday," she wailed.

Yes, you TALKED to me about it, I replied. You TALKED and said that you had to check the schedule and see when a moving team would be available, and then asked me if I wanted to be called or receive an email with the arrival details. I asked for an email (always good to get this sort of thing in writing, dontchaknow), and then spent the weekend waiting for it, which is how I'm absolutely sure that I never okayed Monday morning for delivery.

"Oh. Um, well, the movers are still there, so maybe you could just go home. . ..?"

I've been eating dinner at the computer nook in the foyer for the last week -- I wasn't about to turn down the chance to get my shit back, for heaven's sake.

So I went home, met the very patient trio parked in front of the townhouse, and opened all the doors to let them start doing their thing. Three hours later, the place was absolutely awash in boxes, and I waved at their big orange truck as it trundled out of sight.

Then I hauled ass back to the office, as the delivery of my stuff was no reason to skip out on work (a good choice, as it turned out, since the Thunder from Down Under breezed in with a whole bunch of stuff for us to do stat). But the important thing is that <irishbrogue>now I have my shite about me, and with me shite about me I can be a proper wife, don't you know.</irishbrogue>

Now, I start Unpacking: The Adventure (formerly known as "Who In God Packed Those Firebricks AGAIN?"). Keep me in your thoughts.

TOP

Welcome | Lewis Carroll | Speculative Fiction | Cool Canadian Bands
Hoosier Red | Crafts | Belaurient Web Design | Journal