We're fine! We're fine!

One afternoon a few years ago, Ann and I were driving to the Studio in Cambridge. I was at the helm of her car, which is how we roll. Right near where I-84 spills into the Pike, a vehicle came to a dead stop right in the middle of the fast lane, which is where we were. Since all the lanes were nearly bumper-to-bumper, I could do nothing but slam on the brakes.

It was really scary. But the scariest part is the part where I started shouting, "We're fine! We're fine!" over and over again, at a point where it was not clear that we were nor would be fine.

Perhaps it was the power of my positive thinking that helped us narrowly escape a giant highway pileup. I would like to think that it helped in some way.

We drove a distance in silence. We were a bit shaken (not stirred) by the whole experience. Suddenly, it blew over when Ann began openly mocking me by shouting, "We're fine! We're fine!"

She asked with a laugh, "What was that, 'We're fine! We're fine!' thing all about?"

Hell if I knew. But it's become a thing we shout when things are more stressful than we'd like. We've even shared it with some colleagues. Every now and again, you'll hear cries of, "We're fine! We're fine!" coming from our area of cubicles followed closely by laughter and hard work.

We're basically in a constant state of, "We're fine! We're fine!" in the house right now. Things are just starting to shape up and seem almost like it's a place where people can safely live.

Scott's doing much better than I am. I have a hard time with chaos, and have been falling apart regularly due to same.

I've been trying to keep it together so I can get things done, but sometimes I find it pretty paralyzing. Also, I have been having the racing thoughts about everything we need to do. A couple nights ago, I came undone reciting lists of things we had to do. I kept listing all the things and talking in circles and making just about no sense. When I had worked myself up into crying out loud, Scott handed me a clipboard and some paper and advised me to make a list.

So I did, and it really helped. Now we have the clip board and a dry-erase board with the stuff we need to do and want to do ranked by when we want to do it and how big the job is. This is progress.

Moving is so hard. I don't know how people do it. I know people who move every couple years and I, frankly, don't know how they maintain any level of sanity. I really don't intend to move ever again. It may happen; since I am not a seer, I can't know what the future holds. As far as I'm concerned, however, I'm here for the long haul.

We made some real progress over the weekend. My dad and I hooked up the stove and lit all the pilots (scary) on Saturday. When I say, "my dad and I", what that really means is my dad did it while I stood by and handed him things (and worried just a little bit about blowing up). On Sunday, Margaret came over for most of the day and helped me set up the pantry and unpack all the kitchen stuff. All of these things mean I can cook up proper meals again and we can stop eating take-out and mooching off our friends.

Also on Sunday, the Comcast man came and fixed the internet connection in the house, so now we're online. I can't seem to get the wireless to work properly, but at least we can plug in and have a connection.

So, in sum, we're fine! We're fine.

Blogging from the library with limited battery left

Hi. We're fine. No internet at home yet. Moving basically sucked. We finished cleaning the apartment out last night. The house is total chaos. I need to get my systems set up, but haven't yet, mostly from being paralyzed by chaos. Argh!

I have today off (my birthday) and all of next week, so I imagine we'll get to a good place before the week is out. Organization can't come soon enough.

I learned many things about myself this move and I think it was an opportunity for growth. I'd be happy to tell you more about this at a time when my battery wasn't dying.

Taking time in the outdoors

Both yesterday and today, Scott and I went down to the dinosaur tracks off of route 5 in Holyoke. Previous to these two forays, I only tried to go once some four or so years ago and, finding the tracks covered in snow, turned back and didn't return until yesterday.

They're pretty prounouced, the Anchisaurus prints. These Anchisauruses were totally hanging around the Connecticut River, all casual-like, millions and millions of years ago.

Yesterday, we walked down the embankment towards all the fossils and we found an area where the younger Anchisauruses must have been hanging out, since their feet weren't that-that much longer than mine, despite my man-sized feet (though they are significantly wider and also there are other prints that are much bigger than my feet). I stood in their footprints and shouted, "Argh!" and then pretended to smoke cigarettes like a teenager.

The reason we went back again today is that if you walk down the little path and cross the train tracks (which is illegal), you can sit on the shaley banks of the Connecticut and just watch the river run by. It was so nice, the sitting and watching the water. It was so nice that we had to go back again.

We started packing and breaking things down in earnest in the apartment today. Our closing is on Thursday and we're going to move over the course of June (while trying to also do a few home improvements). After all the packing, a sit down on the shaley banks of the Connecticut was just the thing to help us transition from packing machines back into our normal selves.

Today when we were walking back up towards the car, Scott said, "Don't you want to stand in the dinosaur tracks and shout again?" Of course I wanted to. So I did.

Holy crap. It's happening!

So we went this morning and talked with our realtor and filled out the form to make a counter offer. Because the seller is still out of the country (and will be until mid-April), we assumed that it would take us a week again to hear back from her.

No, indeed.

We heard back from her just now. She's accepted the offer. If everything continues to go our way, we will soon call a beautiful 1890's Philidelphia-style row house home.

It's all I can do not to start barfing immediately.

I guess it's time to start packing, like, for real.

Holy hell.

I called my mother and told her the good news. She said, "Holyoke? Are you sure you want to live in Holyoke?"

I said, "C'mon, Ma. Are we going to go through this again?"

She said, "It's just that, like, five houses down from you looks like it could be a crackhouse."

I didn't want to tell her that she was looking at the wrong house. Because, in fact, it's right next door that looks like it could be a crackhouse.

Crackhouse, sweet crackhouse.

I'm really excited. We're really excited.

Now it's time to start collecting appliances. If you know anyone selling a washer and dryer, gas range or refrigerator, send them my way.

No news

Inquiring minds want to know what the house story is, but I'm afraid there's no news to report. The seller is still out of the country.

I stopped feeling nervous about it, which is good. I stopped feeling nervous on Monday sometime. I'm taking a wait-and-see attitude, while at the same time hoping for a good outcome. Just the same, I'd like the seller to find her way to a telephone so as to let us know what the what is.

Scott's been collecting boxes at work and he's started packing his books. I haven't started packing just yet. Since I did such a huge cleanse before he moved in, I think I'll only need to shed a little more crap before I'm lean and mean and ready to move. I mostly need to shred stuff, which I find to be an odious task (and which explains why there's a giant box of papers to be shredded by my desk). Paperless society, where are you?