2005-08-13 @ 2:27 p.m.
Here is your horoscope for Saturday, August 13:
Stamina is key at this moment. The end is almost in sight, and all you have to do is keep up the pace that you've currently got going. Remember the little engine that could: 'I know I can, I know I can.'
I don't think I've ever read a horoscope more accurate. Ever. Because my stamina is definitely being tested at the moment. I'm very proud of the fact that I'm able to kick any amount of ass by sheer determination. On the one hand, it shows that I have stick-to-it-tiveness, and I've been told that. But then hey, who else is going to hold on to the very edge of a whirling planet by their fingertips, if not me. I mean, I don't exactly have a valet laying out my Vera Wang gown and diamond tiara every morning. I've had to survive a lot of heavy duty poverty and hardships. I may whine about the drama of it all* (*see awittykitty diary the last two years), but I do it because I have to, not because I want to.
I remember once in my survivor's group, someone humorously(?) suggested that since I was so poor, I could teach poor people how to "work" the system. At the time, I didn't exactly know how to take their comment. I know they meant it kindly, like hey witty, you're really good at surviving stuff. But I also really hated being called poor. Why? Because I grew up rich. My Dad had a Mercedes. We had a cabin overlooking Lake Tahoe. I went to private schools. And then suddenly I was being called an expert on being poor. Was that a Yay me? I would have definitely preferred being an expert on divining the location of rare diamonds by way of twitching eyebrows. But no...I was an expert on being poor!
On the other hand, stubbornness has also kept me stuck a lot. Because as tightly as I try to keep control of everything, it also makes it difficult for me to try new things without fear of failure. And not having much control over anything the last couple of weeks, has left me unhappy and in pain. And my body doesn't translate stress well. I have fibromaylgia and when I'm stressed, my physical pain level shoots sky high. This morning when I got up, I could barely move. My calves were having muscles spasms. My knees were sore. Even my fingers felt like somebody had smashed them with a mallet. I have a massage scheduled for next week. I was tempted to cancel it, because I really can't afford it right now, and my days on the free massage gravy train are gone now, but dammit, I really need it and I think I realized that if I don't take care of myself physically I won't be ready for my move the week after.
Yesterday was pretty busy. I saw my case mgr. and she helped me get some paperwork out of the way so that I won't go to federal prison for fraud. (ha, ha, being a drama queen here. I was just updating some long overdue food stamp paperwork). She also made the arrangements for my movers. They will be arriving on Thursday, August 25th. I just hope that the free and easy flaky landlord, who said that I can move in anytime after the apartment renovation is done 8/21, wasn't just being a flake. I also finally got ahold of the government agency who will hopefully be helping me with the deposit and we're meeting Tuesday morning. Not sure how long it takes to cut a check. Hope its like less than 9 days because, ha, ha, that's when I'm moving in. ha, ha. (See, I'm really just trying to psyche myself out by fictitiously laughing, so that I won't melt into a twitching gob of neurotic wittykitty goo.)
And for some reason, that Thursday date sure seems to be coming up quick. And its so soon after the inspection on that Monday, so if I'm getting any help from Harold the Geek, I guess it will have to be on Tuesday or Wednesday, huh? The woman at the second place incredulously asked me why oh why would I ever want to move stuff by myself if the movers were coming. Good question!!
Well, let me explain, my good lady! Normally one of my moves takes about 3-4 hours. I'm very organized and am always almost about 99% packed and ready to have everything moved. Why? Because I'm awesome!! (did you have to ask?) But when this certain moving company moved me a few years ago, it was in the dead of winter and it was a total comedy of errors. Unfortunately I don't think I laughed once. Not once.
First of all, despite excellent directions, I remember standing on the porch waiting for these dorks, who were a half hour late, and watching them drive right past my apartment building. Did I mention I lived right on the main street of the Village? Like right there! Like, hello, it's one of the largest buildings in the Village! And then I saw their truck again. But this time it was driving away from my building. And then I saw them again like 10 minutes later stopped about a 1/4 mile away. So I walked down my stairs and walked over to the truck and said "Are you looking for ****** Plaza?" "Why yes!" they said. "Well,its right there!", I said. And pointed over to the large 4 story building looming right in front of their freaking noses.
So I walked back to my apartment. It was snowing pretty heavily which was not good news, since I had a flight of cement stairs for the
So I had locked Guard cat in the bathroom and told the movers not to go in there. I also had put a large warning sign on the door: "Do not enter. Frightened Cat Within." Within 5 minutes, Doofus Mover Guy #1, walked right in, took a pee, walked out and left the door wide open. Did I mention the door to the great outdoors was also wide open? yeah. As in Guard Cat could have bolted and run out into the snowstorm of the century never to be seen again. I was pissed. So I lined up the mover guys, who looked like the unfortunate results of when siblings had sex and something went terribly wrong and once again issued the wittykitty moving guidelines. No peeing in the bathroom, unless you close the door afterwards. They all nodded and grunted. And I was like Ok. Good. Fine. Now get ye asses moving.
So they started taking boxes down to the truck......
They had all taken like one small box each and then disappeared for like 20 minutes. What are they taking a coffee break? Listening to the stock market report on NPR? Discussing world politics and the importance of stem cell research? I stepped out the door and I could hear them arguing down in the truck about who was in charge of the move and they were nearly coming to blows. I kind of glared at them from my porch and they finally all came back up the stairs without saying anything.
I had already earned my bitch customer wings with the "No peeing without closing the door" proclamation. So they took the next set of SMALL boxes and I was scurrying around setting the boxes near the door, to make the move go faster. And then they disappeared again for like 10 minutes. But this time they were further inside the truck and I couldn't see them. This went on all morning. Pick up a box. Gone for 15 minutes. And the newly voted in temporary boss man got his revenge on me when he strongly suggested that I would have to leave my front door open in-between their 15 minute disappearances into the truck. The thing was though, not only was it snowing heavily and bitterly cold and the wild was blowing about 50 mph, I was also getting a snow drift (!!) forming in my living room! I had a Nor'Easter blowing squarely through my front door, and had snow piling up against my living room wall. If I wasn't so distraught I would have thought it was funny. I just thought, damn! Another thing I'll have to do when I come back to clean.
Finally about 12:45 they had all my stuff in the truck and I was astounded. Usually the packing up of the truck is what takes the longest, but ha, ha, the joke was certainly on me. I gave the guys clear and concise directions to my new place which was only about 3 miles away. By then the sun had finally come out but it was bitterly cold and windy. All they had to do was drive on this main road and make ONE right turn and voila! There they were at my new apartment building. The third building in. Simple, huh? Not if your parents were siblings and you're stupider than a basket of socks.
I drove off ahead of them because I knew the truck would be driving slowly. I wanted to run to Burger King very briefly because I was starving (and let me tell you, it was only because it was across from where my new place that I went there, because I would never willingly go to Burger King, except under the threat of bodily harm). Anyways, this Burger King was like just a half a block PAST the street where my apartment was. And guess who I saw driving by just when I was coming out of Burger King? Go ahead! Guess? The movers? Right! They had missed the right turn at Swain Pond (the biggest attraction in the town where I was moving) and were driving to God knows where. There really wasn't anything I could do. I didn't think they would be able to see me trying to desperately flag them down from the front of Burger King since they were already turning to a different road. So I just went to my new apartment and waited. Finally about a half hour later I saw them pull into the complex and I ran out and flagged them down. They told me I had told them to turn left instead of right. I told them I had watched them turn RIGHT onto Route 92 from the parking lot of Burger King. The guy then told me they needed to take a half hour lunch. And I was like Fine. Good. Whatevah.
An hour later I go and look into the truck and the Gathering of Mullet Haircut Guys were all standing around arguing once again about who was in charge. I told them I really wished they could start bringing stuff in, because I was really
By then my mother had arrived to "help". She was shocked at how everything looked. We're both veterans of many, many moves, but she had never seen anything like this before. I was crying. By then they were even setting furniture on top of boxes. Like what was the point of that? Finally at almost 7 p.m. they had finally unloaded the whole truck. It had been almost 11 hours since I had first seen their sorry ass faces. A 11 hour move?? Fuck! So I signed off on the bill. I wasn't paying for the move. My agency was. I didn't realize for several days that my living room chair was broken and had dirt all over it. I had vaguely remembered seeing them drag it down the stairs to my basement apartment. When I went to do a report to the moving company they said it was too late. So I never got compensated for it.
So can you guess who's moving me in two weeks? Go ahead guess? The Brain-dead But Able to Lift Pianos Gang. I mean I could hire my own people and spend $400 of my own money which I barely have. Or I can hire the aforementioned company of incompetents and have my agency pay for them. Hmmm. Which do I want?
It really is a hard decision. Can I withstand one day of extreme stress and possible broken furniture and retain a bank account? Or do I pay for it myself and not have any money left for Guardcat's cat food? Since I happen to like having greenery in my bank account and really need it to pay for such important things like "A"s appointments and massages, I decided to let the Boys from "Deliverance" do the move once again.
The upside to my decision? Its August and its not snowing, and I won't have to shovel snow out of my living room this time. The downside? I'm more in touch with my anger now and I'm not sure if homicide, even IF ITS JUSTIFIABLE like piling boxes up to the ceiling or letting my cat out of the bathroom, will be a good course of action for me. I guess I'll just have to make sure I have plenty of anti-anxiety meds on hand that day, so that I won't attempt to jump to my death into the waterfall outside my new apartment. Of course its only one story up, so I'll probably just break my neck and then I'll have to type my diaryland entries with my nose.
Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty