Once upon a time, on moving day, I used to be of some value. Not that I was ever big or strong enough to lift and carry the heaviest items, but I made up for my failings with enthusiasm and endurance. I was always there all day, and I never stopped carrying boxes or doing whatever needed to be done. Those days, sadly, are over.
This time, when Tammy and David moved to their new house over the weekend, all I could do was be there. I hauled a few boxes, but that was pretty much the extent of it. After the month I had, I was exhausted before I even started anyway, but I did help look after the children (of which there are, as you know, many) and, more importantly, stayed out of the way. Mostly.
It did reinforce my hope that I never have to move again. Some day Iím sure Iíll be wheeled off to the home, but Iíd like to put that off as long as possible. Moving isnít much fun, and cleaning up the old place to get your deposit back is way too much work for a basically lazy person. On the other hand, it would be nice to have a bigger kitchen, but Iíd probably just accumulate more stuff and end up being just as crowded as I am now.
Most of the heavy moving was done (by others) on Saturday. On Sunday, Tammy and David had somewhere to go, so I stayed with the two older boys for a few hours. They are actually pretty good company when itís just the two of them.
There seemed to be enough of me to go around, anyway. Most of the time I had Dakota on my lap, reading to me and telling me stories, while D.J. was using the extra empty boxes lying around the house to make rocket ships and coffins to play in. He seems to have a fascination with the undead that I wasnít aware of until now. Anyway, he was happy enough just asking me to please close the lid on him every so often, and I gladly obliged.