The Move is Over
I finally got through with my move. Despite the market, I managed to get a loan and move into a house, but I had to spend 17 days in a hotel with the dog to accomplish that, not something I would like to repeat again. Living and working out of a hotel is no fun, especially since the dog had to go to work with me every day, and due to my limited budget and nightmare dietary restrictions, so did enough baggage to require me making at least 2 trips between the room and the underground parking garage or hauling the valet cart (or whatever the correct term for that is.)
I ended up eating dinner in bed and then staying there under the covers to watch TV all evening. I had no desire to call anyone--what do you say? "Hello. I'm living in a hotel and driving around all day with the GPS to find my patients?"
However, said GPS has defnitely been invaluable. I could never have found said patients with any accuracy or in a timely manner if I had been trying to use a Thomas Guide or even Mapquest, since I had no access to a computer during that time, either.
After closing on the house and moving in, I was confronted by no water the first night, since the elderly couple I purchased from had shut off the water a day earlier than they should have and I had not been told by the City of Portland that although they provided my sewer service, my water came from another source. My plans to steam clean the carpets went by the wayside, as did my plans to take a shower! I ended up buying a couple of gallons of water at Safeway along with a couple of cheap pots and boiling water so I could at least wash my face and hands. My realtor called to offer me a bed and a shower at her home, but I declined, determined to stay in my own house, finally.
Once the furniture arrived, my trial by fire was not yet over. How is it that looking for the contents of my kitchen I ended up unpacking items like wind chimes, which I needed like a hole in the head, and finally coming across things I desperately needed only after emptying half a dozen boxes filled with the contents of my china cabinet, my nicknacks and my table linens? I existed with plasticware and the cheap pots from Safeway for the better part of a week before I finally located my silverware, spatulas, frying pans, etc. I found that "Kitchen" was a very loose term on the labeled boxes sitting in said room.
After 3 weeks, I finally found my shower curtain rings, which I had already replaced in total frustration, and the set of new kitchen knives I had purchased shortly before my move. They had ended up in the garage, hidden in one of the plastic containers I had packed myself. How that box ended up out there is anyone's guess. Apparently it must have been one of the last things off the truck and the movers had decided the garage was as good a place as any to store it.
Now I have a two day trip pending to Seattle, to attend a course. The company I work for is sending me up there. Normally, an out-of-town trip with expenses paid would sound like something I would enjoy, but after everything that has gone on this year, I want to just sit in my house and enjoy it for the rest of 2009. Ending up back in another hotel (with the dog, again) doesn't sound like a thrill to me. More dragging bags and the pet taxi around and coping with meals.
Since becoming both gluten and lactose intolerant, eating out is a minefield. I have to read menus in restaurants very carefully, scan all ingredients in the grocery store and travel with powdered creamer for my coffee at all times. My worst nightmare is an Italian restaurant, which is filled with wheat & dairy--pasta, pizza dough, cream sauces, butter... The last time I ended up in one, when a writing group went there for dinner, I had to eat a seafood salad that was considered an appetizer because it was the only thing on the menu that was safe for me. I watched all the other members of the group enjoying bread, pasta, soups and then dessert. I went home and ate a bowl of Rice Krispies because my stomach was still growling.
I'm so looking forward to this trip...not.

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