We are finally, as of 4:15 yesterday afternoon, officially moved out of our old place. This is the result of eight hours of sweaty, backbreacking solo work that I put in throughout the week, and I would like to thank the Girl Scouts of America for giving G something else to do for four and a half of those hours, or else I'd still be over there hauling junk and mopping floors right now.
I feel like I've been beaten up, but at least I'm done.
Except that now I have to unpack everything here at the new place.
One thing I realize every time I move is how dirty houses and apartments get after a couple years of living in them. I do clean regularly (although not with the bacteria-annihilating zealousness that P did), but when I look at a place through the eyes of a prospective new tenant, I suddenly discover appalling filth lurking in places like the tops of appliances and the edges of cabinet doors and the floor behind the toilet. I can only assume that I never notice it because it's my own filth and I'm comfortable in it. It's like a snuggly warm coat of filth!
In other news, we still haven't got cable here at the shiny new Casa de V. I suffered through a few days with no Internet at all and then remembered that I still had AOL installed on my old laptop, so at least I have some connectivity now, if you can call being connected at 41,000 bps "connectivity." I haven't used dial-up in almost seven years, but I don't remember it being nearly this bad before. Not only does every page take 20 minutes to load, but a lot of sites won't display at all because they have Flash or are otherwise optimized for broadband users. But I have to admit it's fun to hear the beeping and hissing and sproinging of a modem dialing again; it reminds me of the exciting summer of 1996 when P and I got our first computer, and I would spend half the night going from Web page to Web page to Web page, marveling at the way it seemed never to end. Oh, techno-innocence, how sweet you were. Not as sweet as wireless broadband, though.