The whole process of moving is pretty painful if you don’t do it right. Even when you do get everything “right” the door is open to so many failure points that it’s enough to cause some people a nervous breakdown. Not me. Despite all of the trouble, I like going to a new place and getting to know it.
There’s also a lot of opportunity to hit the reset button when moving. You can clean up anything from your wardrobe to a dead end relationship all with a few choice packing decisions.
“No, I didn’t pack any of your stuff. How odd. Guess we weren’t meant to be, huh? You can keep that sweater, though.”
When I met InProgress she told me that she was done with Florida within the first few dates. I think she was trying to run me off, but I’m way too obstinate for that. I didn’t really want to move; I’d only been in the state about two months and was still getting settled in comfortably. I considered the locale to be pretty ideal; warm year round, beaches, fishing, and I’d managed to get someone to pay me to move there. But it only takes a while before my feet get itchy.
And six years later we did move.
I traveled for work for about two years which helped me not get bored with FL. I pretty much only saw it one day a week – if I had the energy to get out and about. Then we started seriously discussing the AT hike. And what it would mean to our lives if we did take the leap and do it. And I waffled.
Rather than quit work and go hike I sought a position at a new building to be opened. I wanted North GA but it wasn’t available; I got FL. Well actually I got both. I opened GA then got on a plane home and immefiately opened FL. It was 6 straight months of the kind of work that kills people between the hours and the stress. The kind that makes great war stories. I both loved and hated it, as is appropriate to such a situation.
After the trials, tribulations, worries, stresses and successes of these endeavors I was able to come to terms with leaving my job to hike and then move to Wisconsin.
We released the cats to roam at will in my parent’s house. We were leary to do so since there are already 2 dachshunds and a cat in their place but we were pretty desperate at the point where we tried it. It’s amazing how quickly and thoroughly 3 manic cats can exhaust you.
After an hour or so of acclimatization it worked like magic. Poorly executed messy magic, but magic nonetheless. Pixie “explored” my parent’s bedroom closet a dozen times at least. Celeste HAD to be in a lap. Spike kept trying to get in (or perhaps out of) the windows. All of them ate the dog’s food. But the constant meowing and pacing stopped.
The next morning I got busy and repacked and prepped for travel again. Then I discovered that the radio in the truck was dead. This is a very expensive double din unit I purchased and installed in February. It seems to be completely without power. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Kaput.
I went for the basics and determined that there is at least power to the wiring harness. When I pull/reinstall the fuse, the auxillary door tone box beeps. It’s getting power through the radio harness. This leads me to believe that I am not going to fix the issue in 15 minutes and will probably have to send it in for warranty repair. Thus I will drive from GA to WI sans entertainment.
Roughing it, baby. Roughing it.
I drove from MI down to GA without event. After sleeping off the long drive I helped Jess out minimally as she prepped the car for the drive to Tampa. We planned to drive down on Thursday and then back up to WI starting Sunday. The intervening days would give us time to get the cats and their stuff prepped for the trip and provide opportunities to see friends.
The drive down was uneventful. We were staying with friends: Matt and Jen have a mother in law suite and were generous enough to offer it to us for our stay. Good friends like this are rare. They are animal people like us so it’s nice for us to be there. We get to hang out with their cats and dogs as well as seeing them.
Friday we went over to the condo to see our kitties (and awesome cat sitter). Then we went out to meet friends.
Saturday we went back to the condo and gave the cats a “test dosage” of xanax. Drunk cats. Drunk cats with an insane case of the munchies, even. Then we went out to meet friends. Drunk us.
Sunday we drove up to Cobb. Celeste meowed the whole trip and right on into Sunday night she kept it going. Pixie also contributed, feeding off Celeste’s misery and echoing her yowls in an unpleasant chorus.
When we arrived we unloaded the cats and allowed them out in our bedroom. “Not enough!” they declared and continued to vocalize their displeasure. I felt almost as if I were at a union rally. Around midnight I packed Celeste up and moved her to my dad’s shop. Not that it did any good – Spike immediately stepped up his complaining to fill in any deficiency created by her absence. Around 3AM I couldn’t take any more and moved to the couch where I was trying to sleep when I was summarily awakened, tried, and convicted of being a traitor by my wife for abandoning her with the two remaining hellcats. I was too groggy to ask why SHE didn’t also leave the bedroom and instead wearily dragged myself back to the dungeon for some more torture.
If the cats were aiming for some down time with all of their antics then it worked. We did not continue travel on Monday; we were simply too beat and it would not have been a good idea.