Here's a marathon entry, but--as I've defiantly stated before: It's my blog and I'll write what I want. (Geez, I hate people who get belligerent for no reason!)
I don't know why I'm not as skinny as a rail. Very active day, to say the least, but productive, too. Unloaded a bunch of stuff at the thrift store in Tuckerton and was pleased when the volunteer there said she had enjoyed my appearances in several shows. So nice to hear.
I called a few other moving companies, and their reps simply had me give them a list over the phone. One said they don't go as far as California, another that they were booked through July, and I didn't get any satisfaction from the other, either. However, when I told one I wanted to cut down on the astronomical cost, he delivered a true gem: Unless you have very expensive and irreplaceable furniture, it would probably be cheaper to take only what you absolutely must have and buy replacements there.
Eureka! But of course! Paying the highway robbery premium to move my stuff, much of which is so-so, makes no sense when I can replace it at my leisure. Okay, so I decided I'll sell what I can--and to whom? Why, to "Tom," the Fuggetaboutit guy. He and his elderly Dad got here about noon and after showing him this and that, adding some things, dickering about price, and so on, he hauled away my kitchen table and three matching chairs (I kept four); the wooden kitchen set (table with leaves and four chairs) my friend had given me; five white bookcases; my porch furniture, with cushions; four fishing rods; several large terra cotta pots; and a few other items.
I know he's going to sell the stuff for three or four times--or more-- what he paid me, but so what? If I hadn't let it go, I'd still have it and I don't want or need it. So I'm delighted 1.) to get rid of it and 2.) to receive cash for it.
Zipped to Beakins and bought two large and two medium boxes. I have plenty of containers, too, so I think that's about all I'll need. My friend came about 1:30 and we packed a bunch of fragile stuff. Set aside yet more for the thrift store.
After showering and dressing, I went next door to the pizza and beer party in my honor. Present were those I think of as "the inner circle," all of us in a row on my side of the streeet: Leslie and Dennis; plus Frank, Joe, and Ray, each with a Barbara. (On our short street, we actually have a fourth Barbara, who's married to Jack.) Frank had also picked up Aline to join the party, a welcome addition.
What good fun we had! The pizza was great, the beer better, and Barb D. served her usual wonderful desserts: a fruit basket, delectable cinnamon cake, and a spectacular trifle.
But, of course, all that doesn't matter. What does, is the camaraderie, the laughs, the shared memories, the easy, secure knowledge that you're among friends and can relax. Pat is remembered fondly by everybody in this group and several told stories about him. I hope to find good friends in California, but I know that none can possibly replace these.
The party started at 6:00 and didn't break up until after 9:00. (In these parts, that's practically a middle-of-the-nighter.) Went to bed as soon as I got home and, after a few more virtual pages (the book's on Kindle) of Tab Hunter, fell deeply asleep.
I don't recognize it often enough: I'm a spectacularly lucky woman.
No comments:
Post a Comment