So here’s the deal.
We close on the new house on January 15. So in less than two weeks, we have to:
Get new carpet installed in the old condo.
Arrange utilities.
Get the Sprint Fixed Wireless broadband connection uninstalled here and reinstalled there.
Change of address.
Finish installing all the new linoleum tiles in the pantry and remaining two baths (Melissa, bless her, has already done the kitchen and the ground floor half bath.)
Get homeowners insurance.
Re-grout one shower stall and one bathtub.
Repair that hole in the drywall in my office (don’t ask).
Spend some quality time on the phone with the bank and the broker so there will actually be the 12k in cash we’ll need to make the mortgage.
Pack 50 bottles of wine, an equal number of bottles of booze, something over 600 books, the good china, the Riedel wineglasses, several firearms, two computers, and other items we don’t trust to the movers.
Oh yeah — I still need to hire movers.
Call in some serious chits.
Keep the puppy cat sane during all this activity.
Re-paint one condo and a house.
Continuously vacate the premises so that potential condo buyers may bitch about my tastes in private.
Throw out almost four years of accumulated crap.
Get that damn basement railing fixed.
Figure out how many boxes it takes to pack three kitchens worth of kitchen toys.
Pack all the damn kitchen toys. (Did I really need to buy us a large crockpot and a gallon fryer the Christmas before we moved?)
Learn to finally love the cell phone and to hate Qwest all over again.
Disassemble one large desk, one small desk, and two beds.
Look with alarm at the latest Visa statement.
This, of course, is only a partial list.
You, dear reader, should at least be comforted knowing that Juan Gato’s crystal ball is still in perfect working order.
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