This moving thing kinda blows. I like the idea of going into a house with a yard n' junk, and there's no knocking the 2 car garage even if it has an old pump organ in it (or especially because it has an old pump organ in it), but changing over the utilities makes me manic.
I nearly cried to get out of the $825 deposit on the electricity (I know -- what the f...? $825? What kind of a power-suck are we moving into?), but we're stuck without internet or cable until September 24th. That was the earliest they could schedule some guy to come out with the box and the flip-switch job. What a drag. That means nothing between the Friday and Wednesday. No internet -- no blog, no daily horoscope, no facebook now that I'm starting to figure out what all the stuff is about on it, and no Fishdom for 5 whole days unless we can sneak in on someone else's WiFi. And no cable means I miss the second House M.D. of the new season. Why? Why? I tried crying to Comcast ("NOOOOOOOOOOO!"), but it got me nothin' but a "sorry, ma'am" and I hate being called ma'am. "Jaysis," I said, "we'll have to read a book!"
I predict we'll be getting out the felt board and puppets by Monday night. Or we'll have killed each other.
But if we can stick it out we're upgrading to HD on the new install. Now I get to see Kimi lose the F1 championship in high def. oh. boy.
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2 comments:
The psychic distress caused by moving is second only to that of seeking a new job.
True. Moving doesn't have the whoring aspect that goes with the job search. I didn't find myself tarting up and finding run-less nylons to meet the new landlady. Out here, everyone's potentially a meth-head (or, worse, a student), so you really only have to be the first one to look at a place to get it.
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