February 26, 2008

Why Are The Scots So Bitchy?

Whew. Moving sucks big goat balls. I am tired, tired, and more tired. I am pissy and grouchy and altogether unpleasant to be around. My Our house is a mess.

How quickly gratitude can disappear. How quickly your gleeful attitude turns to irritation. Rudeness. Grumpy McGrumpyness.

Mere days is all it takes to move from being just blown over by how well life is to being a snippy little bitch. Hey, babe….umm…sorry.

I have discussed before the irritation of dealing with small town New Mexico.

My decision to start an import/export business during my “brief” trip to Houston.

Every birthday should end in fast food, tears and vodka shooters.

Monkeys, lower evolutionary development, fucking retarded idiots – semantics – New Mexico has them all baby.

1,001 Reasons to Sue Your Apartment Complex.

There are things that I haven’t written about…my fights with 2 different doctors’ office. The resultant collection attempt that is marring my perfect credit score. My love’s dealings with things that I probably shouldn’t refer to because this is my blog and not his, and my career and not his. Have you seen the movie, The Hills Have Eyes? I wholly believe it was taped in Oil Field, New Mexico. And is a true story. ‘Nuff Said. Word to your mother.

(HAHAHAHA!!! After intense fact-checking because this is a quality blog, well written, researched, and factually accurate – the movie DOES take place in NM. There, Bitches.

So…this is what we were faced with. I flew in Sunday, needed to be moved back across Texas asap so I could return to the Great Law Office in the Sky and draft more TPS reports. We needed to get a U-haul, a trailer, a rebuilt transmission, boxes, return the cable box, pack, clean and get a seal of approval on the clean apartment.

The sheer terror that rose over me thinking of the difficulties we would face when working on this move….

I couldn’t get a piece of fried chicken in this town without a fight. It is simply impossible, (under normal city standards), to do anything in this small town.

I would like a hamburger, no onions or tomatoes, add bacon. HUH! WTH. We don’t have no bacon burger. Well, could you add bacon to a hamburger? NO. We ain’t got no bacon on a burger. Do you have bacon? Yea. Can you place it on top of a burger? NO. I done told you no. We don’t do those high-falutin burger deals here, lady. See. Impossible. You want something. You can’t have it. Welcome to New Mexico.

So…we set out with great trepidation on Monday. We obtained a U-haul, the exact trailer we needed and sufficient boxes in less than an hour. Perfect. Ecstatic exclamations may have been heard.

We then had to obtain a vehicle that was in a shop. A rebuilt transmission. Work that was originally quoted to take a week. We wanted it done over a weekend, ready Monday afternoon. They agreed. We did not truly believe them. We had lived in the area long enough to know the difficulties that arise from needing things from other people. Be it toothpaste from Wal-Mart, a burger from Burger King, a tire rotation at a tire rotation place. Not Easy. Staples has an easy button. These are not advertised at the local Staples. It would be false advertising and I would sue.

The truck was ready when quoted. For the low end of the quote. We passed out. Woke up. Drove the truck home. And it worked. The tranny didn’t fall out. We made it back to Oil Field in one piece. Life was looking up.

I do believe that when things are right, when things are meant to happen, it is clockwork. Greased wheels, however you want to describe it. In a Land of You Cannot Have It How You Want It Because We Said So, we were given everything exactly the way that we wanted, in normal world time, without hassle. In a year of living in this area, this has never before happened. It was unnatural. Supernatural, Yes, Joel Osteen, we were living in the Supernatural.

Life was wonderful. Life is wonderful.

We got all the moving accoutrements in place. We boxed and moved and got rid of a bunch of crap to the bestest home in the entire world.

We drove and drove and drove.

We then hired people to carry all our crap up the 89 stairs that lead to our place. It took them 63 minutes. It would have taken us 6.3 days.

The worst thing we could think of that happened during this blessed week was that my sandwich at McDonald’s was kinda gross. The very worst thing. Hmmm….aren’t we amazingly fortunate.

However, then I have to go and get all involved. I have to “feel” a certain way. I have to get tired and bitchy and cranky. I have a dirty house, boxes everywhere. I am exhausted. And people at work talk to me. I hate when people talk to me. Quit talking to me!!!

And so I get all bitchy with my love. And Cranky McCranksterston hit town and was mean.

My dear, I apologize for being a Fussy McFussy Pants. And for talking all Meany McMeanster.

Forgive me please.

I will make Popcorn shrimp for dinner.


Sauntering Soul said...

I'm glad y'all are moved now. Hope you feel less, uhm, bitchy soon.

Kaytabug said...

Didn't the Aunt just visit? or is this just Fianna stressy pants?

I hope you feel calmness soon!

sophie said...

Moving days are the worst days int he history of the universe. There is no other reason needed to be in a horrid mood.

Aren't those guys amazing at doing things way faster than we can? They put our entertainment center together in less than 3 hours, best $100 ever spent.

nikki said...

Moving sucks sweaty donkey balls. Be grumpy all you want. You've earned it.

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