Just when I needed a little San Diego, I got a heavy dose of Seattle. Not the real Seattle, which I understand is a sun-drenched city of coffee-loving musicians, but the mythical Seattle which is merely drenched, and where the sky is permanently drab (I believe the color is "Boeing gray").
Moving is enough of a challenge without having to dart in and out of the rain, hoping whatever you're carrying doesn't get completely ruined. And driving on California freeways during a month when people already have forgotten how to use their winter manners. And sloshing through puddles up to your ankles, trying to keep your grip on a box you've overstuffed slightly.
Yes, I'm currently paying rent on two homes, and in the area of driveway drainage I've downgraded. At least the ponds at the old place are mere depressions in the middle of the concrete, small enough to walk around. Today at the new place mighty lakes hugged the length of the house, from the garage door to the front door. And the miserable excuse for a gutter on my new roof was delivering a waterfall that I didn't find a way to dodge.
But I did make three trips back and forth, and much got moved. I'm finally seeing the difference here at the old Home Office, but I'm also seeing so much more to do, and it gets harder. Well, the easy stuff is done, after all. Everything that was already boxed or could be easily boxed has been moved, except for what I'll need this week. There's nothing left to do but drag that boulder up the steepest part of the mountain. I can't roll it down the other side until I've made it to the top.