The Last Day?

Well, this is the last day I officially have for moving. Looking around here, it’s very clear that I’m not going to get finished any time soon. So I have to decide whether I’m going to try to wrangle a few extra days out of my company, or I’m going to go back to work in the morning and trust that Fate will allow me enough time to wrap up things over the next couple of weekends. Hell, it’s even occurred to me to turn my truck in. At this point, what do I have to lose? The only problem there is that once the truck is gone and the house is gone, I would literally be homeless then. I don’t fancy sleeping on the street.
So. We play nice with the trucking company, and we do what they want us to do. Yes?
This week has been a bust. Everything that could go wrong has gone wrong logistically. Combine that with occasional laziness, depression, physical pain, and the strength-sapping heat (it’s hovered around a stuffy 80 degrees in the house all week because of the anemic air conditioning), and it just hasn’t gotten done.
Hell, when I came home Sunday afternoon, my back was still killing me from restacking those two pallets of canned soft drinks the Friday before. That’s not good, when you consider that moving involves a lot of bending over and packing. It was Tuesday before I really had any useful mobility. That set the tone for the week.
I’m not going to list everything that went wrong this week. Not again, anyway. I think I’ve had plenty to say about it so far. I haven’t said much about my own laziness, though, when I could have sallied forth and had at it, but wandered around the house instead, staring at the mess. More could have been done. This is normally where I would insert a string of excuses, but they’re moot points now. It needed to be done and it wasn’t. If the paperwork for the sale of the house did not get in on time and the mortgage company initiates foreclosure in the morning, I’m going to regret my foot-dragging.
I will say in my defense that I think I’ve done pretty well considering. I’m a single person trying to pack away thirty years of memories and accumulated junk for four people. I’m not only having to pack away mine and Mara’s thing, but Mama’s and Loretta’s, as well.
But I’m listing excuses again. It doesn’t matter. I could have and should have done better here. Bottom line. From here I guess I just do what I can do. And if it comes down to literally being thrown out of the house in two weeks, I already know what essential things I’ll be taking with me, and what I’ll be leaving behind.

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