Two weeks ago I didn’t know where I would be at the end of February. Last week we decided I would move to Pine, starting to move my stuff up there tomorrow, Tuesday, February 11th. Now just about everything I own will be moved up to Pine by the end of the day tomorrow. A fairly large load went up suddenly on Sunday. I don’t know when exactly I did it, presumably while I was moving around heavy boxes and unweildy furniture, but I hurt myself a bit. My left knee, which has been giving me trouble off and on for years, hasn’t stopped giving me trouble since mid-Sunday. Also, I seem to have strained … I don’t know, most of my left leg below the knee.
I’ve had today to try to pack up the rest of everything I own and get it all ready to move tomorrow. Except that even if I’m not carrying a heavy box, my left leg seems to want to collapse underneath me. Which would be fun if I weren’t carrying heavy boxes and looking forward to carrying much heavier furniture tomorrow. Loading and unloading and loading and unloading. We were fairly hurried on Sunday to try to beat the sun and we forgot a few things we were supposed to get done. Like unpacking many of the boxes or at least finding some empty boxes to bring back down for the move tomorrow. Or grabbing the blankets we used Sunday for padding more furniture tomorrow. Or inventing an anti-gravity device for assisting us with everything we’re going to do tomorrow.
I was really hoping to get the blankets back.
So I’m trying not to strain my leg any more, though it seems only too eager to get itself properly twisted. I’m doing my laundry so it’s all clean before the move (and because it isn’t nearly as heavy as boxes full of books.) I’m way behind. I should be done by now. I should be in bed so I can get up early tomorrow and be fresh and full of the energy I’m going to need. I started writing this well before tomorrow became today, but I keep getting up and doing a little bit of the work before finishing the post. I don’t think it’s Pine or the situation I’m moving to which is slowing me down. Perhaps it is the process of moving itself. When I moved into this house about 20 months ago I swore I would go through moving again for at least three or four years if I could avoid it. This is my seventh move to/in/from Tempe, which started in the summer of 1997. That’s quite a bit of packing things up, disassembling furniture, loading things into cars or trucks or U-Haul trucks, driving carefully, unloading things, carrying them up stairs or down stairs or both, reassembling furniture, unpacking things, trying to figure out where they’re supposed to go… I think it’s the physical act of moving I’m sick and tired of.
I’m going to go get back to this. I think the utter lateness may fuel me to get more done, faster. Except that my leg seems to be getting worse. Stupid leg. i should have had my legs replaced by robot legs years ago.