Morning, Gentle Readers,
Well, I was going to post a moment-by-moment chronicle of the move, but that would just depress all of you, and piss me off anew, so I'll nutshell it and then move on. We learned several lessons on this journey:
1. When you rent a truck on-line, make sure you find out which dimensions are which. The truck was listed as being 15'X6'2"x7'4". I had assumed the 7'4" was the height. I was wrong. (getting tall furniture into the truck was something of an adventure)
2. Allow an extra day for your travel. If you can't get your truck over 60mph without it wanting to flip over, it slows your progress immensely.
3. Find out when the office at your new apartment closes, and make sure that you can get in after they go home.(we couldn't and we got to spend an extra night in a hotel less than a mile from the apartment)
4. If you can at all avoid it, don't move into a place without seeing it yourself. My mother-in-law did her best to evaluate this place, but if I had seen it myself I wouldn't have chosen this one.(Em likes it, though. So I'm doing my best to attribute my uneasiness to exhaustion and aggravation from the move.)
Ok, that's enough bitching. Let's talk about something else. The other day I read a letter in TV Guide from a mother who was complaining that the new Star Wars movie wasn't child friendly, and how could George Lucas do that to her. I just want to say to that woman...Bite me!!! The last two movies were worthy of the freaking Power Rangers, so he finally did one that we adult fans of the movies could enjoy. Get over it. I am so sick of parents who think the whole world should be child-proof and sanitized. I grew up playing on asphalt playgrounds, using toys with small parts, and potentially toxic plastics. I watched Johnny Quest, The Adventures of Superman, The Six Million Dollar Man, and other violent tv shows. I ate Cap'n Crunch, and Sugar Pops, and other non-healthy cereals, and I survived fairly well, thank you. I never even owned a bicycle helmet until I was in my 30's! I'm not a sociopath, or sickly, or (no comments, please) even slightly deranged. Get over it, parents. We are raising a generation of wimps, full of fear and self-loathing if they dare to enjoy sugar. And interwoven amongst all this parental angst is a culture of declining parental responsibility. I don't go to movies very often, because I know that my 7 year old won't sit still for it, and will disturb the other movie goers. I don't use the tv as a babysitter, nor do I expect her to use any character on the boob tube as a role model. I don't care what comes out of Hollywood, or Burbank, because I know what she is watching, and I make sure it's appropriate or I, and this is the radical part here, turn it off.
Oops. I guess I didn't really stop bitching, did I. Oh well. I have more boxes to unpack. Talk amongst yourselves.
Love and kisses,