The Problem with Invisible Movers...

Last week I had a bit of a mid-week melt down. I was re-reading emails from the moving company, just to make sure I wasn't missing anything, as I seem to be obsessive about doing lately. And in it, I read that I was supposed to receive a call from this one particular guy in charge of scheduling the time for the move. I hadn't gotten a call yet! Had I missed it? Was I FALLING BEHIND?!?!?! So I fretted about it for about 30 minutes, until Stephen finally got fed up with it and told me to just knock it off and call them already. So I did. The conversation consisted of the following:

Amy: (panic filled voice complete with bulging hysteria eyes) Blahblahblah have I missed it did I screw up when when ARGH!!!

MoverGuy: (quiet calm soothing voice complete with aromatherapy) Relax. I won't set a date until Friday, and I will call you on Friday and let you know.

Amy: (still panic, but muffled) Oh, ok. I guess I will talk to you Friday then. (But in her head she is THINKING "oh no now he thinks I'm obsessive compulsive and he will think I am being too strange and will not want to work with me ARGH!!!" and on and on.)

So time passes and Friday comes and I almost sit by the phone, waiting for MoverGuy to call until Kelley comes into town which I forgot about and then it is 6 pm and I realise that he never called.

I fume for the weekend. How dare he think me obsessive compulsive! How dare he when it is not him moving to England, packing up an entire house and having to choose what to take and what stays, it's just HIS job, who the heck does he think he is anyway?

So Monday I call. No answer. I leave a message and then I manage to wait an hour and call again. No answer. Message. The third time I get someone, they put me on hold, then MoverGuy gets on the phone.

Amy: (semblance of calm hiding panic) I really just need to know what time you all will be here tomorrow because it is tomorrow and I don't know what time you will be here tomorrow...

MoverGuy: We have been trying to get ahold of you all week. We won't be there tomorrow. We haven't scheduled you yet.

Amy: (all semblance of calm shattered into a bazillion pieces) WHAT?!?!?!?! But I have to be out of my house and... *sputter sputter*

MoverGuy: Let me call you back today and we will schedule you.

So I wait... and at 4:30 call them back. He needs 20 more minutes and he SWEARS he will call me back. He does, 45 minutes later. To tell me that he will call me in the morning because he can't schedule me.

ARGH!!!

So I am NOT moving today. I have NO IDEA when I am moving. I have to be moved OUT of my house by Monday next, and I have NO IDEA when I am moving.

Why does 8 seconds on a bull seem like a lifetime? I'm holding on by the skin of my teeth but it just doesn't seem to help. Breathe, breathe. Ohm. Ohm. Ohm.

Is it Just Me, or is This a Cruddy Update?

So much...

1. Unconditional acceptance letter arrived from the University today. That means that I can FINALLY apply for visas.

2. Loan signing happening tomorrow, but I can't be sure about the time because my daddy left his phone! So I can't call him.

3. Tristan is now officially 6 years old. Happy Birthday to my sweet Sunshine baby.

4. Tuesday the movers come. Tomorrow Chris, Pat, Ashley, and I go crazy with trying to put everything that goes into 1 room. I have always wondered what my couch would look like in the kitchen. I'll find out, because it is one of the things that is NOT going, and the kitchen is the official not going place.

5. I'm sick. Some sort of face throbbing, sniffly nose, hack hack cough cough, sore throat from too much nasal drainage thing going on. It sucks; I am too busy to take time to rest in order to get better. I'm prolly sick now for exactly that reason: I am stressed.

6. As of Tuesday, all animals are gone. Chanco found a lovely home with Kamy, Daddy has taken Donis, and has asked for Muriel too. Trudy is going back to Dar's. It will be a lonely house without animal company. Noone to drive away the nightmares. (Not that they did a very good job of that before anyway)

7. Still not enough news on house stuff to post - are all of you waiting with bated breath? Is it torment, keeping you up at night to not know? Oh well. Wait you will.

8. That prescription that I was stressed about getting filled? Done. The clothing that needed sorted? Done. Yay.

That's it for now... I will definitely keep you posted as things happen. I'm ready to not be stressed over this whole thing anymore. REALLY ready.

¡Mí Principe está el Rey!

Stephen's interview was today.

He totally rocked, of course. As a matter of fact, he rocked to the point that they called him back today and offered him a job. Which he has accepted!

I am so proud.

He was really very nervous. We had stayed up working on his powerpoint presentation for three days. He researched, and had a great resources list. His speech was well written, clear, and concise... plus fun. Anecdotes and pun-ny jokes. I'm not biased at all, am I?

He texted me during class, causing an Amy to scamper and run full tilt down the University corridor to get to the commons so she could talk, and we ended up calling each other and talking on the phone for a few minutes, which was very well worth the bit that it cost to call international.

PLUS I actually got a lot done on the house in preparation for the move, so I am feeling a lot less stressed. There is news on the house front, too. But that will wait until there is a bit more. Consider this your teaser.

Angst Angst Angst...

I can tell it is crunch time, all the way around.

We are stressed. Beyond stressed, even. So far beyond simply stressed that an FTL drive couldn't get us back in a reasonable amount of time.

Ashley's response to stress: sleep. Lots. And I'm jealous of the fact that she can sleep until 5 pm, so I don't wake her up. I let her sleep off her stress, so at least one of us can feel less of it.

Stephen and I, on the other hand, seem to be basking in the glow of stress. Time limits and things not going exactly as planned, deadlines that approach far too fast, and things that are tossed up into the air and never exactly seem to come back down; all of them dump their little stress-straws onto our backs and all of a sudden, we both feel slightly camel-ish.

There are so many repercussions of this stress cocktail. Physically, we are both worn out. I find my volume goes up and up, until Stephen stops me, tells me to breathe deeply, then tells me to stop yelling at him. Thank goodness he knows that I am not 'yelling at him', only struggling with volume control. Hormones (gotta love that cortisol) dumped into blood streams and make me feel like I am in eternal PMS, and I am blessed with everything that goes with it. Tears would be so nice, but I have no reason to cry. I wonder if Stephen regrets my female-ness yet. And then there is this wierd red splotch on my eyelid that just won't go away.

It is a total of 8 days until the movers come. The house is a hurricane; I stack things in one place or another only to be unsure about what is stacked where. So much travel: Las Vegas for Wedding Wonderlands, and then a great trip to see Gramy, but the travel wears me out. Kids pick up on stress. Clothes to be packed, birthdays coming up, familial drama, muddles and muck, am I really out of freaking trash bags?

Then 1 week to clean out the entire house. Yard sale (yuck), Salvation Army, scrub-a-dub-dub. Homelessness sleeping on a friends couch. No stability. I'm grateful, I'm grateful, Ohm, Ohm, Ohm.

Not to mention other things. I have a presentation (1/2 my grade) in class tomorrow, Stephen has a big job interview on Wednesday, and so many things to avoid forgetting (Medical records! Dental records! Forward the mail! Last minute doctors appointments! Did I fill that very important prescription yet! FOR CRYING OUT LOUD WHERE ARE THE TRASH BAGS?!?!)

It is 29 days until Stephen arrives. 2 weeks until the other side of Crunch Mountain. And I haven't even received what I need to start the application for the visas.

I just have to hold on... rides are made for their thrill right?
(But I don't like rides... and did I remember my scopalomine patch?)
TOO LATE! HERE WE GO!