The movers called at 10 and said they were running about half an hour late. They arrived and began work at half ten, worked with admirable and somewhat depressing speed (it took them SO LITTLE time to pack up a giant room full of book boxes that had taken me weeks to fill), threw the last things we hadn’t quite managed to get into boxes, into boxes, got everything including the trees and the barbeque into the truck, and hied themselves off to Drogheda where they got lost trying to…
Less than that even, now. The movers are coming in 12 hours. Actually less, or they’d better be. Things are more or less packed, with the emphasis on more. As Ted said, at this point it’s almost impossible to see the forest for the trees. It’s hard to tell what’s unpacked anymore because there are boxes all over the damn place. We’re all very tired. Poor Indy is high strung with excited nerves and exhaustion. Ted and I are just exhausted. We keep saying, “It’s only Monday,” with disbelieving horror.…
Me: Can I beguile you with some cake? Visiting friend: Oh, no thank you, I’m more a brownies kind of pers–is that German chocolate cake? LET ME RECONSIDER MY HASTY DECISION Friend, later: As is always the case with everything that Catie bakes, IT WAS THE BEST GERMAN CHOCOLATE CAKE I HAVE EVER HAD. Me: I’d say you flatter me, but it’s probably also true. :) *** Delivery fella just dropped off a big box of stuff. “Big boxes are usually for men,” he said, “plastic bags with dresses, things…
I forgot to show you guys the place we’re moving into. It is an actual Georgian (or Georgian-style; we don’t know when it was built) manor house. Not a huge one: it’s 4 bedrooms, not, like, 38 or something. But it’s an actual manor house. It has a living room AND a sitting room. And that is, yes, a gazebo; please do not shoot it with an arrow. It has about an acre of grounds, and a brook running through them, although the brook is in the badly overgrown part…
There’s evidently a part of me that’s convinced I’m the sort of person who plans dinners/cooking far enough in advance to use dried beans. It may be the same part of me that’s apparently sure we always need another can of chickpeas. Or that keeps collecting condensed milk that I never, ever use. (Buying that is usually an actual mistake, rather than some kind of strange conviction, to be fair. Periodically I get condensed and evaporated milks confused in my head.) It’s probably also the same part of me that…