OK. I am tired.
Friday we began THE MOVE.
We took a little of this and a little of that so that the people that were moving us (my very, very dear friends, their kids, grandkids and great grand kids) wouldn't break them. (Good friends, not professional movers)
Saturday dawns and I am up and we get the dogs in the spouse's car along with all their accoutrements. (Dogs have lots of accoutrements) and he takes off for the new house.
Cats are in their carriers. Not happy at all. But safe.
Then we get the truck. Twenty six feet of truck.
Then we need another truck. Fourteen feet of another truck.
Then we need a trailer.
Where did I get all this CRAP!
And I have been throwing out stuff for a month. And I still have all this CRAP!
Up the mountain we go.
And 8 hours after we started it is off the trucks (and trailer) and my new home is full of CRAP!
TV guy is running around. Internet guy is running around. Thank god the phone just needed to be plugged in.
And the dogs are scared and the cats are in their room all freaked out.
And I have to go to work on Monday and tell the world why I can't go to trial on Tuesday! SO I am doing a motion.
Then everyone leaves. The house is quiet.
But Mohawk has trouble breathing all night. And I am up with him.
In the morning, Mohawk gets really red eyes and gets really weak and won't walk.
I figure his heart is giving out. He is shaking. I wrap him in a blanket and head to the emergency ER that I saw when we were scoping out our new town.
They ex ray him and want to do an ultra sound. They take blood. He is a little anemic. They tell me to call in a few hours.
Then they get him stable and say to come get him. They have an emergency surgery and can't do the ultrasound until Monday. At noon.
Have I mentioned that I am trying to work, too?
Mo comes home. He is walking slow. He eats like there is no tomorrow.
Then he sits next to me and goes to sleep.
And I can't wake him.
He is breathing but he is non-responsive.
I figure we are losing him. He is 15 years old.
So I am up most of the night checking him. He lays next to me in bed and I have my hand on his chest. And he is breathing.
And he wakes up. Shakes himself off. And lets me know that he has to go outside.
At 2am. On a freezing night on the mountain. And I can't find my clothes.
We go outside and he does his business.
We go back to bed. And he falls into a natural sleep.
Go for the ultrasound today and they can find nothing wrong.
God, moving SUCKS!!