There are a lot of cheerful, Spanish speaking men in my house right now. Sooner or later, the very chair I am sitting upon will be swept away by them, into the cavernous depth of the eighteen wheeler parked outside on the street.
That thing is huge, by the way. It's longer than our entire yard is wide. It takes up half the street and I can only imagine what our neighbors are saying. It's sad and disorientating to think that soon, all our stuff will be trucking on down to Kentucky without us.
On the other hand, how incredibly lucky am I, that I can sit here and calmly write and read and drink a McCafe while all the work is done for me. Keith is off doing "Final Out," where they sign off on all the stuff he's already had signed off.
Last night he got it into his head to re caulk both bath tubs, at a quarter to nine. I think he just needed something to focus on, other than the empty rooms.
Since the bedding went yesterday, we slept on the mattress under an opened sleeping bag. It was light and slippery and kept sliding off one way or the other; we didn't get much sleep. Also, I forgot how pampered we used to be, having two TVs. Keith always stays up later than I do, watching the downstairs one. This meant for several hours last night I had the sleeping bag up over my head while he watched TV. It doesn't work out so well that way.
Its incredible we haven't lost it on each other yet. We've come close, at one point I had to slap him on the butt and tell him to "Stand down!" Also, now I check in with him often, since he has a tendency to keep things in until they explode out and his current fuse is so short that it might just be a figment of my imagination.
He always bellows for me from any corner of the house. "Woman!" I hear, or "Jenny!" or occasionally, "Sweetie!" It always sounds as though a major emergency is under way by the intensity and carrying power of his voice. Naturally, he has merely misplaced his phone, wants my company or has forgotten some item of information that I, as the woman, have filed neatly away somewhere in my head, usually a date of some kind.
Wow, one of these guys looks remarkably like George Cloooney.
I apologize for rambling on, I have nothing to do but type and play Spider Solitaire. After everything has gone, I'll have no time at all, what with all the cleaning. Keith laid out the plan of attack last night; we will go level to level, it will be systematic and thorough and come hell or high water, we will be done and everything packed by Sunday night. At the crack of dawn on Monday we will be on the road to Kentucky, regardless of weather, major emergencies or any other mitigating factor. He has a mission, and damn it, he will complete it. Hooah.
Speaking of my darling NCO, the man is back. I'd better sign off here so I can go report for domestic duty.
