Cruise Ship Revelation

We're just back from a big family adventure around the Mediterranean Sea. Well, I'm just back. Brett stayed home on Pet Patrol and did his best to keep Grace's fur out of Erik's belongings. This was the first time I've gone to Europe as a married person without Brett also being there. It caused for great reflection upon my earlier years being a young, plans-less person as opposed to a slightly less young, much more comfortable in the world kind of person with a life back home that excites her. I spent a lot of time watching old folks on this trip. This was mostly because we were on a cruise and old folks were the majority clientele. Typically a trip to Europe means I spend my time watching young people; what are they wearing, what are they doing, that's a good looking pair, how long have they known each other? Where will we go hang out tonight? Things like that. 

But this time I wondered how long the old folks had been together, where have they lived, do they have kids that cause trouble or giddiness? Where have they gone. What have they done. Would Brett and I rather go-to-seed someplace European that focuses more on the things we value? How come no one builds beautiful buildings anymore?

Trips to Europe are always enlightening. 

Parallel to my big European thinking ran my big grad-school thinking. I'm currently studying in the realm of consumerism for school, so watching the cruise ship's crew put out masses of food for one thousand people three times a day really hammered home just how much stuff we eat and buy and need and don't need. The gross tonnage of food up in the dining area was really quite disgusting. And how much of it got thrown away at the end of each day? There were so many fat people with "big, swaying butts" (-Dad) who had piled their plates three tiers high with pastries and breads and sweets. How many chickens had to be roasted each day? What about the piglets? Then I thought about all the packaging - I don't usually mull over plastic packaging - but I sure noticed it here. Being on a cruise while studying consumer-rates and wondering about being an old person in the future kind of bummed me out a little.
When I'm old, I don't want to be a rich, fat, white person. I don't think they get it. 

In other deep-thinking news, I haven't been able to have my morning introspection time in over a month now. The main thing I've noticed is that its much harder to think deeply the longer you go without thinking deeply. What was it I was always mulling over? These days, I wake up with an upsettingly long to-do list, so I bolt right into action. Not taking the luxurious time to ask "why" about any and everything makes for a real shell of a Lue. This time next week, I'll be sitting in our new house, back at my big thinking. It'll be chaos in there - crap everywhere - can't find what I need - but oh boy it will be glorious.

Anyways, trip report coming soon.

Almost Time

According to Contractor Dad, we are approximately one week away from moving into our new home. If it was up to him, it would probably be two or three weeks but that's only because Dad wants to present a perfectly finished home to his most easy-going clients. The painting isn't quite finished and we may not have countertops or a kitchen window, but next week we'll have appliances and working commodes, so in we will go. 

Now is the time for all the fun stuff; light fixtures, pull knobs, paint colors, etc. Who knew there was such variety available to you the form of sink faucets? I don't care what faucets we have... do I? I guess I do. 

Brett has fenced in the yard and we've brought the girls over a few times to romp and roam. They are only mildly interested, and even still we think that's only because they've been living in lockdown over at Erik's house. He does not have a fenced in yard, so they have to be escorted outside with a leash a few times each day instead of having any sort of independence. Pip doesn't really mind but Grace has become even more curmudgeonly. In the time that we have lived with him, Erik has really fallen for Bushes and makes a point of bringing the cat into his room at night so they can cuddle together. If he didn't travel so much and have a fear of commitment, I just might let Erik keep him.

But we've really fallen for him too. He's a great little dude. 

So There's This Cat

Right around the time that we started working on the new house, two little kittens wriggled out from underneath our new neighbor's shed and wandered up into the job site. They were tiny little things with socket-like fuzzy hair and lots of goop oozing out of their eyes. I named them Emmylou and June.

How fortuitous that we would by a home and it would come with kittens. I asked the neighbor with the shed about them and he said, "Aren't they so cute? They were born in our shed there."

"Are they yours? Are you going to keep them?" I asked with obvious intentions.

"Nah, they're just hanging around. You can have them."

"I can?"

"They can be your little outdoor buddies."

So in that moment I knew I was the care taker of Emmylou and June. I ran off to the pet store and got them some dry food, a water bowl, and some flea collars. My plan was to win them over so that I could capture them, take them to be spayed and vaccinated, and then place them back into their yard to live out their days knowing they have a backup-plan-family if the stray life gets too tiring. I asked Brett about this and he agreed.

"You can certainly take them to be fixed, but don't feed them. They'll strat to rely on you."

"I want them to rely on me."

"No. That would mean we have cats. We're not having cats."

"But Bubba...."

So I started sneaking around, tossing kibble around and a refilling the water bowl when Brett wasn't looking. Nevermind what he wants, these kittens needed help. (They really did- they both had respiratory infections.) I've wanted a cat for a while now, but as long as we were living on the busy road, I wasn't going to risk it. 

So this whole kitten thing seemed like it was all a part of God's plan. 

Emmylou, the orange one, is quite curious and playful. She'd hang out in the house with all the noisy construction and mess and confusion. Dad would carry her around with him because he was worried someone would accidentally squish her.

June is much more sensible and keeps her distance unless you have snacks. 

All was going well in my kitty kingdom. 

Then Dad delivered the news, "Your neighbors on the other side caught Emmylou and took her to the pet shelter."

"What about June?"

"They said she wouldn't let them close enough."

I went right over to the pet shelter to find Emmylou. I called Brett on the way. 

"Well you have to go adopt her!" he said.

"I know!"

"But we're not having a litterbox, ok?"

"Bubbs, she won't even be a house cat."

No one at the shelter knew anything about her. She wasn't in quarantine. She wasn't in the clinic. She certainly wouldn't be on the adoption floor at that age. "Describe it again," they asked me.

"Orange, 5-6 weeks old, lots of gross goop dried around the eyes."

"Hmm..."

Finally they sent me away by giving me the intake manager's email address. "If anyone knows, she will." And she did. 

"Oh yeah, I remember him. We named him Sailor. He's in foster care until we can get him neutered."

I was grateful and had lots of questions. The short of it though, is that they didn't care that he was "my" cat. "Sorry, we can't hold him for you. Everyone should get a fair chance at him. When he comes up for adoption you'll see his picture on our website."

I got all huffy and puffy and checked the darn website everyday for two and a half weeks. Meanwhile, no had seen June since the abduction. We don't know if they ever caught her or if she is just hiding. Surely she'll show up soon or maybe Emmylou Sailor will be able to lure her out when the time comes. Despite my efforts, I haven't been able to meet those neighbors. We think the house is an Air BnB because the same cars and people are never there. Dad talked to someone who called themself a renter, but then they were gone after the weekend. Did an Air Bnb person take June?

Finally the day came. I marched over to the pet shelter, filled out some paperwork, paid $75, and walked out of there with my fateful friend Ferguson.

Joke was on Brett because they told me, as I was leaving the shelter, that he can't go outside for two weeks while his stitches heal. I had planned to drop him back in his yard. Oopsies, we need a litterbox. Brett didn't like it but since it was an honest surprise, he let it slide. 

But now we've had time to fall in love with Ferguson and I won't let Brett plop him back into our new yard (his old yard) until we're there to make sure he's safe and nourished.

"Oh come on Lue!" Brett whined, shortly before wallowing around the floor with Ferguson and his new toys.

Brett calls him "Bushes" because that's where we first found him. So he became "Ferguson Bushes" for a while before we decided "Bushes Ferguson" had a nice ring. Then Brett called him "Bushes Alexander Ferguson" and I added a "Reynolds" in there so that his initials/acronym could be "BARF." I was just kidding around but now Brett actually calls him Barf.

Mostly I call him Fergus.

I can't say whether or not Ferguson remembered me when I came to get him but he strutted right out of his cat box and into my wiggling fingers with ease. Despite arriving at our house at its most chaotic, Fergus is consistently at ease and is always purring. He likes to be pet and he loves to play but I haven't been able to get him to sit on me which is what I really want out of all animals everywhere. Up there in that photo, after a week in the family, he finally laid down next to me and gave himself a bath. It made my whole day.

As for June, she still MIA. Dad got a lead on the neighbor - the business card of the person we think turned Ferguson over to the Feds. I just need to give her a call. 

I really hope I can put the family back together again. 

Fiasco Weekend

We knew the weekend was going to blow, but goodness. The hurricane on Friday managed to really rip through James Island and knock down lots of big trees and blow out the power. We all lost power around lunch time and discussed via text what was going on outside of our homes. While Brett and I found the idea of spending our last night in our first home via the flickering glow of candlelight to be a romantic notion, we didn't realize it was actually a foreshadowing of the events to come. 

Meanwhile, over at Mom and Dad's house, once the power went out, Dad fired up the generator and they carried about their business while water rushed into the home through the roof. I believe I heard there were 12 different leaking spots. Dad was busy poking holes in the ceiling to relieve the water pressure when their carbon monoxide alarm set off. "It's the generator exhaust," Dad suggested, so they turned that sucker off and hung out in the dark. Then they got into a big fight about whether or not they should sleep there that night. 

Mom arrived at our house at 9:30pm and spent the night on a mattress on the floor in the guest room with our new kitten. (Have I mentioned the kitten yet? More on him later.) Our power came back on that night but Ellen's stayed out until midday on Saturday. Last time I checked on her, she was sitting in the car charging her phone.

Saturday Post-Storm Move Day. 

Mom got up and scampered out of our house before we could put her to work. Brett and I needed to pick up our Uhaul at 10:00 so for some reason he decided to go ahead and load my 4runner with things even though I was just dropping him off at the rental place and then going home again. This made us late for pickup but Brett still insisted on getting breakfast somewhere. We had to visit three restaurants to find one that was open. That place took 40 minutes to give us two egg sandwiches and then finally, one hour late we arrived back at our house where Ellie and Caroline had been waiting 45 minutes for us. They set to work right away loading the truck with the big heavy things while I tried to pack up the kitchen even though we'd run out of boxes a week ago. (I refuse to pay for boxes.) The kitten who just joined our family on Wednesday, has been kept in his own room to protect him from the dogs. We left the girls outside while we loaded the truck and stuffed the kitty from room to room as we cleared each one out. 

I left to pick up lunch for our "all-female and Brett" moving crew and met them at the new rental. I was excited to see it. I wondered what sort of "light-filled dump" Dad had found for us. Before I arrived, Dad called and said, "Remember when you drove across the country and stayed in those roadside motels?"
"Yeah?"
"Keep your expectations there."

Dad has high standards so I figured it wouldn't be all that bad. He and Mom had been over there cleaning all morning. When I arrived with the lunch, I walked into a conversation about "the smell." Long story shortened, we were about halfway through unloading the truck when Brett admitted he didn't want to stay there. This allowed Ellie and Caroline to pipe up with their thoughts on the matter which were, "We wouldn't stay here either." See, the last tenants really trashed the place. They never cleaned anything and they left a huge pile of dirty crap in the front yard. The backyard was full of glass, the walls had suspicious smudges, and there was "the smell." While I could only smell the distinct scent of stale marijuana smoke, everyone else including Mom and Dad could smell bowel issues. Brett suggested vomit as well. Brett and I stood in the moving van while we discussed.

"I get it, but where will we stay?" I asked.

"Our house," Caroline said from the yard, "You just stay at our house. Don't sleep here. You might not wake up."

"What about the dogs?"

"Oh yeah," Caroline looked at Ellie who just shrugged. 

"Who do we know that doesn't have pets? What if we just tear out the stinky carpet? It's going to be replaced next month anyway," I suggested.

"Maybe," Brett said. 

I went inside and stopped Mom from continuing the cleaning. "Brett doesn't want us to stay here. He thinks we'll wind up with respiratory issues," I whispered to her, so Brett wouldn't feel embarrassed.

"I don't blame him," Mom whispered back. "This place is gross."

And it was. You know when you go into a space and you don't want to touch anything or sit down because you think it's going to be sticky? Like an invisible gom will cling to you when you stand up again? That's what this place was.

So we decided to go ahead and use it as a storage unit for our stuff and find a place to sleep our new family of five furry beings. We finished unloading that truckload and a second one and then we finally dismissed Ellie and Caroline. There was still lots to pack back at the house and it was already 5:00. Sometime in there Dad went to the doctor for a cough he's had and found out he has bronchitis. Brett took a load of tools to Dad's garage and came back with news that Erik said we can stay at his place. We had to do a mini-repack to pull out the things that we'd need while at Erik's (clothes, pet supplies, work files, computers) and everything else would go to the stinky rental. Towards the end of the day as I prepared one final load to take to the Stank Palace, it occurred to me that I hadn't seen Grace in a while. The girls have been nervous and clingy since the packing began and it would be just like Grace to punish me for her discomfort. I searched the yard but only found Pippa. Grace had escaped. 

Long story shortened, amongst the downed the trees and power lines and post-storm debris, I found Grace pawing at some garbage down the street. It was a brief panic but it was the cherry on an iffy day. 

Finally, at the end of the day, Brett realized we had a lot of work to do to get the house empty and clean before Monday. (Simple.) Erik happens to be out of town so we moved into his place in a way that would have been rude to do in front of him. The amount of stuff - the audacity to move his things to the side to make room for ours - putting a kitten and litterbox into his office without really discussing it first. I felt bad about it. We finally stopped working at 9:00, took showers, and climbed into our double bed with two nervous dogs. We did not sleep. (The kitten did though. He's extremely easy going.)

Sunday was the worst day. Already a little sore and very tired, we were up early packing more crap. Something came over Brett and he got more stuff into my car than I thought possible. On this day we had the last few things to take to the Booger Bungalow, a small pile to take to Erik's, the whole house to clean (with paint touch up included) and then... the garage and flower shop. 

Precious, long-suffering Mama tackled the house while Brett and I loaded the garage into the Uhaul. Dad arrived with some young people to clean up our yard and Ellen popped in to watch us all work.

Highlights of this day include:

-An additional escape by Grace - caught immediately by neighbors

-Throwing away lots of Lux stuff because I just decided I was done with it. 

-Dad refusing to go home and rest even though he looked very sick - Ellen called him "Bronchy"

-Brett gave me a milkshake

-The new owners began harassing me for a time to come pick up the keys - I became irate about it. "Don't you see were working on it!" (I didn't say that.)

-A final load to the Blowout Cabin

Around 7:00pm, I had adrenaline keeping me going but Brett was just exhausted. We made it out to West Ashely to turn in the Uhaul. (Turns out the place closes at 6:00, so...) At 8:00 we ate a quick supper at the old house, took a load of tools to the new house, filled my car to the brim with crap, and then came back to Erik's to feed the dogs. At 10:00, I slipped on a dangling sleeve as I carried an armload of clothes up the stairs and it was the last straw. Hot rage filled my ears, exhausted tears filled my eyes. Brett looked at me and said, "No. Don't do that. You're done, ok? You're done for the day."

"Oh!" I snapped, "I'm sorry my feelings are a burden to you!"

"Give me that and go shower. You. are. done."

I whimpered into the bathroom and came out feeling fresh. 

"Sorry I cried."

"It's ok."

See I still had to go back Monday morning to empty the fridge and get the last pile of things that we couldn't fit in the car. The new owners wanted me to meet them at 7:30am so they could start their move and I said, "crap on that." So sweet, long-suffering Mama got up to help touch up paint and load plants while I cleaned the pantry and fridge. We were just loading up Ms. Wilhelmina Pigglesworth when the new people arrived at 9:00, acting like they owned the place and all. 

I went back to Erik's and fell asleep with all my pantry goods and hoses and ladders still in the car. I was so tired and achy and just the littlest bit sad. Brett had to go to work all tired and achy and just the littlest bit sad. All of our belongings are divided between 5 different homes and you know we left things in the wrong houses. Today I am tasked with visiting the Diarrhea Dwelling to gather a handful of things that need to go to other places. There is still a ladder, a vacuum, and two hoses in my car that I don't know what to do with. My back hurts and the girls are uncomfortable at Erik's so they keep following me around and slipping on the wooden stairs and staring at me while I sleep.

 

I'm so relived that the worst part is over and that Erik's place is clean and spacious. Erik gets back to town next week which is when I'm headed out of town, so all of this can be Brett's problem soon. I don't know how he'll manage all the animals with being at the office all day. Last time I left town there was a brawl that resulted in discovering Pippa's auto-immune disease. Now there is a bite sized kitten tantalizing the girls with his gentle meows. 

Who knows how this will go.

Contractor Dad (who is feeling better, by the way) thinks he can get us into our new place by Nov 1 - even if we don't have all the parts and pieces just yet. And that suits us just fine.