Chapter Seven

 In which a sense of normal would be appreciated...

If you've ever moved, you know that things take some time to feel normal.  It's a question of where you've put things, getting used to new noises and new layouts, and figuring out your new shopping/commuting/life routine.  

For some reason, packing always feels worse than unpacking.  But sometimes things get a little weird.  Weird how?  

  • When I was packing, I put all my laundry into a mesh laundry bag. We had the moving company do the big packing, and my assumption was that if anything, they'd put the bag in a box.  End of.  Well... these packers unpacked my laundry, putting it into a box along with the laundry bag.  Luckily, they'd also put shoes in that box so there was no "is this clean? is it dirty?" confusion.
  • The other lucky part of the laundry being packed separately is that my "delicates" are missing.  All I have right now is whatever was in the laundry.  I really don't want to purchase replacements, so I'm hoping that the unopened boxes that are labelled LR or K were actually supposed to be MBR 
  • Along with that box, all my personal items (including deodorant, make-up, hairbrush and the like) are also somewhere.  I could swear I saw a box marked "make up" but I think that might have been move-happy hallucinating.
My bedroom is unpacked, although there is still the whole question of whether certain items belong where they are now.  I've also gotten the Very Strong Impression that I am not the preferred renter in this building. You see, there are 9' ceilings, and the Elfa shelving in the closet is arranged for someone more like Kareem (7'2") than li'l ol' 5'45" me.

Next come the book boxes, all 30+ of them, which will leave a few that could possibly hold the missing items.  If not, it's back to the Old Place to see what might have been left there (several items are going into storage and those will move Tuesday).  

And then there's The Herd.  Packing Day they stayed under the beds all day.  Moving Day they were put into a bathroom filled with their favorite plushy furniture, along with water, food and a litter box.  Where did they stay?  Under the vanity. As the unpacking has been going on, they've been exploring, hiding (Baby Girl does a great impression of unmade sheets under a tidy bedspread) and generally getting to know the New Place.  

The Boy is one of those strong silent types: quick to hiss if he feels his space is being invaded, even faster to nip at hands (requiring doctors and medication), but never actually vocalizing.  Big Girl coos, chirp, purrs and talks; Baby Girl squeaks, chirps and purrs so loudly it can be heard two states over.  The Boy never made a sound beyond the hiss.  Until the first night in the new place.  Apparently he can make sounds, loud ones.  It's like a baby crying and yelping at once, a pained "OW" that made me first worry that someone had gotten hurt thanks to a semi-rigid box and household item that wasn't put away properly.  But no, it was just The Boy, showing us he could talk, too.

Can we just go back to normal?

To be continued...

ETA: apparently the movers thought Thing One liked wearing women's undergarments and wore make-up: there were two boxes marked "his" that in this case were "hers"

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