Because my housemates and I are having a problem finding a place that holds all the stuff, the creatures, the stuff, the equipment and tools, the stuff for which we have no name, at a price we can all manage, I packed my stuff up and moved it all to my mother's. Her house is paid for.
My brother Roger came down the day we moved the storage bin and helped put all the pieces together. That's after showing up early in the morning and helping pack up about 140 bankers boxes of my stuff. (I'm painfully organized and have my stuff in same-sized boxes so they stack neatly.) (why, yes, I do have a neat desk, why do you ask?)
Unpacking bin, chasing the cats off the boxes and out of the bin, disassembling bin, frightening the cats, packing the trailer, chasing cats off the boxes, tying things down, checking one last time for cats, tossing two cats out of the van, and closing up shop, took a good chunk out of one day.
I gave strict instructions on how all this was to be packed and... guys, you're not listening to me as I'm yelling at you. *sigh* They're all working to unpack and get set up. I guess I have to go help.
Boxes transferred to the back patio pending packing into the bin.
My mother and Beth sat on the patio and supervised. That's Beth, wielding the wrench.
And then Mom winced when she realized I wasn't going to immediately move everything into that bin. Mom, it's a big steel container that is no longer shaded by trees. Until I get insulation on it, anything I put in there is going to melt.
This isn't one of my better writings, but I be tired.
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