“Take your time and don’t kill yourself.”
That’s what my mom told me whenever I let her know the movers were coming. Any decent human being would have heard that and heeded the warning, not me. And boy am I regretting it now. I had every intention of taking my sweet time in unpacking and doing a little here and a little there. Easier said than done as I would very soon come to find out.
Our stuff was piled from floor to (near) ceiling. The movers were clearly in a hurry to move on to their next job and after they legged all 1,000 and some pounds of our stuff up two flights of stairs I wasn’t about to make them drag everything into its designated room and put it together, so I very dumbly sent them on their way with a plethora of thank yous and good lucks! Then I faced the mountain of stuff before me and wondered: why the hell didn’t I get rid of more crap.”
Kicking oneself is a normal reaction when the daunting task of putting everything away alone finally hits home. I have no justifiable reason for NOT taking the movers offer of helping me unpack and piece things together. (the table is a lot trickier to put together than one would believe and the bed frame took about 2.5 hours yay…) but if they offer…. accept the offer! Don’t feel the need to be Wonder Woman!
Shortly after they left, my sweet son who can do no wrong (HA) crawled into the living room beside me and I quickly realized that between him and the dog the living room was one giant messy accident waiting to happen and that I wasn’t going to be able to take my sweet ole time like I had originally intended. Leave it to me to be genuinely surprised that NOTHING is going to go to plan.
Which you’d think by now I would be better prepared or maybe less surprised that sh*t hits the fan as quickly as it does but… alas here we are.
I’ll not bore you with the details of my unpacking and stressing out over my children getting hurt, because I promise you it IS boring and full of nothing but curse words, stubbed toes and bent pinkies plus a great deal of bafflement at how someone could continue to not only move but pack other people up, unpack them and then put their things away for them. I could hardly do it for myself!
And don’t even get me started on all the bandaids I went through.
I wanted to call the company and tell them to give every one of their workers a raise by the time I was done getting everything where it was supposed to be, and I do hope they know how appreciated they are. And I will admit that my clothes are still strewn about haphazardly in my closet, all over the floor and there is no reason (literally not a single one) that I haven’t just put them away… I just don’t feel like it I guess, besides there’s always tomorrow right?
Well also my entire body DOES hurt and I also decided that unpacking our entire house was enough of a workout for the day. But I will gladly take any and every excuse to NOT workout because I am NOT that mom, I will go to the gym walk around for 15 minutes like I’ve never been there before and then get on a machine for 30-45 minutes before going home and stuffing my face with any and all junk I can find as a reward for my ‘hard work’
I’ve learned to be pretty handy since my husband first left. (sorry I am just now getting to the meat of this post) Youtube has turned me into an instant professional at being a handy(wo)man. The bathtub faucet went bad and after 25 minutes watching videos and reading reddit(?) posts I had it figured out! Not only that it was working much better than before, the same goes for the kitchen sink and the washer and dryer. (the landlord promised to fix a few things but that sadly never happened)
The only thing youtube couldn’t help me fix was the outside stairs and landing! I’d say I’m still a novice but learning and getting better everyday!… sorta. Shout out to my husband who ignored me entirely when I told him we weren’t going to use the stupidly expensive toolbox he bought…. guess who is laughing now… not me. Instead I am very thankful to have had those things help make everything a little easier and yes at this point I am giving myself as*pats because as far as I’m concerned I did a very good job!
My point is, before he left I never would have even considered trying to fix any of those things, my first thought would be to call my dad or a handyman. But I learned, and I’m glad I did. Strange but true at one point I would think it was unusual (also dread) that so many military spouses spoke of becoming the handyman/woman but now I realize there was a great chunk of truth behind that.
You turn into someone who is better equipped to handle messy situations when they spring up on you instead of panicking. Though my sons first ER trip about a week before we left to finally join my husband nearly broke me and I wasn’t mentally or physically prepared for that… that is a different story in and of itself however…
Not sure if anyone has come back to keep reading but even if you haven’t and are new thank you! Hopefully everything is looking better and is easier to navigate now! Still don’t have much of a schedule and if I don’t post every day I doubt I will go longer than 2 days without uploading. (don’t quote me on that because life happens!)