Random Thoughts As I Prepare to Take My Leave

No, I'm not taking leave from blogging (though it may seem like it lately) - I am leaving the state that has been my home for 33 years. I arrived on my 8th birthday, September 6, 1975, and am leaving 33 years and 3 days later. I haven't been in one spot all 33 years, of course, as I left home for college in the middle of the state, boomeranged back home for a year, left home for law school on the east side of the state, boomeranged back home for six months, bounced up north for a time, returned to my parents' town but in an apartment, bought my own house in that town, then moved with Spousehole (then my fiance) into the house and big-ish city I've been in for almost 10 years. The house in which I am packing every single item we own and preparing to leave next week.

Today my dad and I tackled the attic. He brought things down, I sorted them into keep, donate, and toss. My poor 72-year-old dad (6 months older than John McCain!) must have been up and down those attic stairs at least 100 times. I made a run to my favorite donation place (they give the things away, they don't sell them; I like that) with my dad's van (no seats) full, made a run to the Paper Gator at my church with about a 1/3 capacity load, and FILLED my dad's van with broken down cardboard to recycle and bags of trash. It took us 9 hours, but the attic is completely empty and the floor up there swept clean. All the stuff is sorted and has been disposed of or boxed up for the movers on Monday. I'm going to create a new "attic rule" for the new house: only seasonal items (Christmas, Easter, Halloween, etc.) or temp storage items (such as clothes the boy has outgrown that will be suitable for girl when she grows into them) may go in the attic. If we aren't using something IT GETS DONATED OR TOSSED. I'm not doing the attic clean-out ever again. Our attic has about 350 to 400 sq. feet of usable storage space and every effing bit of it was being used. That's just ridiculous. I feel like one of those crazy "hoarder" people. NEVER. AGAIN.

Tomorrow is my birthday (41!), so I'll be taking a break from packing and cleaning to go celebrate with my family. We're going to lunch at one of my favorite chain places that specializes in slabs of dead cow and then back to my parents' for homemade cake and ice cream and opening gifts. Except they better not actually have any gifts for me. My mother already bought me a kick-ass printer that arrived yesterday and my sister watched my daughter all day and is keeping her for an overnight and my dad worked here all day today and is returning for more punishment on Sunday. I say they've done plenty and don't need to give me anything else. Hugs from nephew and my daughter are plenty from the kiddos.

You might have noticed I didn't mention Boy giving me any hugs tomorrow. That's because he has been at my in-laws' all week. I didn't put him in school this week because going for just one week was not going to do him any good. Also, he has gotten more and more agitated as I pack up the house. Autistic children don't like change and seeing all our stuff go into boxes just freaked him out. He won't return to the house at all because I think if he sees the empty house after the movers leave that will freak him out too. He tells everyone that he's moving to South Carolina to live with his daddy again, but I don't think he completely understands what that means. I've explained that we will be in a different house and he will go to a different school with different kids, but I don't think he'll truly get it until he experiences it. He's not good with abstract concepts. Most autistic kids aren't. He has enjoyed this week with his grandparents. He has gotten to be the center of attention without his sister there and he's eating that up. He doesn't have to share toys or compromise his preferences. He did tell my MIL the other day that he misses Mommy though. That was good to hear. He drives me crazy, but I love the little bugger more than life itself.

You may also have noticed that I didn't mention Spousehole coming up to help finish packing and then drive down together, as had been discussed here. That's because we've moved on to plan Q (which comes after Plan A, Plan B, Plan C, and so on). Spousehole is staying in South Carolina; the kids and I are driving down in my van, leaving Tuesday or Wednesday; and the cats are driving down leaving Wednesday or Thursday. Oh, and the cats are bringing my dad along to do the actual driving. That crazy old man decided that he wants to drive the cats down and that he'll bring any stuff that the movers won't take (propane tank, cleaning products, etc.) or that I don't want the movers to take (my expensive floor lamp that I got for less than wholesale or that just don't make it onto the moving truck for whatever reason. He figures the cats will be happier because he'll have room for them to travel in style (he got a dog crate big enough for a Great Dane) and he might even let them out to roam around the van. I think Dad is doing this to make Dad happier, not the cats. He wants to see where his little girl (yes, at 41 I am still his little girl) is going to be living and wants to give Spousehole the evil-eye for taking his little girl and grandbabies away. I'm good with it because I want my Daddy to see where I'll be living, I love my Daddy to give Spousehole the evil eye, and it will be tons easier for me to travel with just two obnoxious children instead of two obnoxious children and two obnoxious cats. Also some motels that take pets do so only if you take a smoking room and I HATE smoking rooms. I always wake up all puffy and stuffy because my allergies are aggravated. Dad won't mind a smoking room because he's a smoker (boo! hiss!) anyway. Even after having a triple bypass and carotid endarectomy 4 years ago.

My Daddy still spoils me rotten.

To blog is a self-invasion of privacy