You’ve just moved into the new house. It’s a Saturday and your first night sleeping there. You wake up Sunday morning and head for the garage ’cause there’s something in there you need. You open the door from the house into the garage. It’s dark in there and you can’t see a thing. But suddenly…
you
hear
something.
You hear some guy snoring in there. And it’s certainly not anyone you invited or knew would be in there.
You:
A. let him sleep it off.
B. send your husband out there to say “Hey buddy, what’s up?”
C. call the police.
My dear sweet husband, in his I’m-completely-insane-and-irrational-until-I’ve-had-my-morning-coffee state of mind, suggested plan A. We even argued about this for a couple minutes. Until I realized he was not of sound mind. I opted for plan C and called the police. Even the dispatch, who I’m sure hears a lot of strange things, was clearly surprised by the weirdness of this situation.
Can you imagine?!
So, long story short, it was a guy who used to live here (apparently this house was previously rented out to a bunch of guys) who had partied so hard the night before he couldn’t even remember how he’d gotten there. He was passed out on a futon in there. Oh, and he was also on top of some kayak oars and some other stuff that was on the futon. That, my friends, is messed up. Who needs a special slick marketing campaign like “just say no”? Just show ‘em this winner and I’m sure that’ll do the trick.
Thankfully, we haven’t had any incidents since. Except for the guy from the cab company who showed up at our door the next day pretty ticked off that he’d given somebody a ride here and it turns out the credit card was bad. Really. What a shock. The cabby threatened that the police could come by to help him until he finally got it that we didn’t have anything to do with it. Ya, call the police. Please. They know all about it. And that’s the last I’ve heard. Hopefully, there will be no prologues of any sort related to this craziness.
So… yes, we’re moved in! The move was brutal. We’ve had movers for our last three moves, but self-moved this time (with the help of some of Ron’s awesome friends). It’s totally like having a baby. You forget how excruciating it is until you’re in the process of doing it again. Then Ron and I both got sick, so that has slowed down the unpacking. But we’re both starting to feel better now.
In the midst of the moving chaos, we decided to put the kids in public school. They started on the 28th (school had actually started on the 25th) and both like it. They’re at different schools now, though with Drew being in middle school (I’ll save that story for another day – or probably a scrapbook page) there are now two sets of Back-To-School nights, two different “PTC” (Parent Teacher Club) meetings, etc. I’ve been pretty busy with those sorts of things too.
Also in the midst of this chaos, Ron was diagnosed with skin cancer. Squamous cell carcinoma to be specific. On his left calf. Thankfully, this kind of skin cancer is very treatable. But still… was scary to have to have a biopsy and then to get a “cancer” diagnosis. The procedure to remove it is today.
That’s enough for now. Time to feed the baby lunch and get her down for a nap. Maybe I’ll nap with her. Just reliving this while typing it out has exhausted me.
