Thursday, September 20, 2007

Good stuff!

There is good information on the Dog Legislation Council of Canada official blog, Wag The Dog, and one terrific election sign *grin*...check it out!

Monday, September 17, 2007

Moving Day, Hooray. Kinda. Sorta.

As you may know, I finally found a nice, brand-new apartment. Part and parcel of finding a brand-new place to live is…..moving there.

If I ever again pick a company because its name amuses me, slap me. I booked El Cheapo Movers. Funny name, funny website. The move was scheduled for somewhere between 9 and 9:30 a.m. on Friday.

So, I wait patiently on the front stoop of the house, smoking my brains out and cursing the day I decided to move. It’s 9:30. No movers. I get a call from the movers. They’re running late, they have to gas up the truck, they should arrive in about a half hour. Okay.

Around 9:45, I get the next call from the movers. They were rear ended on Lakeshore, they have to wait for the police. Call the apartment building, reschedule the elevators. Okeee.

Movers finally arrive around 10:30ish, two nice young fellows who load the truck very quickly and very well. I’m thinking, okay, not so bad. Then, the driver tells me that he had a call from the police, the other party in the accident is disputing the event, the police are coming to the house to interview them. Call the apartment building, reschedule the elevators. Again. Okeeeee.

Pick up the cats (who have been stuck in their carriers since 9) and their litter boxes, and drive to the new apartment. Unload cats and litter boxes and litter, trundling it all upstairs on my handy dandy new hand truck. Fill litter boxes, let cats loose, close bedroom door so they’re safe. Go to the balcony and start smoking. Heavily.

Get a call somewhere after 12, police haven’t arrived yet. Okeeeeee.

By 1:45 I’m getting a tad cranky. I get a call from Gail in the movers’ head office. The police yellow stickered the moving truck as mechanically unfit, it can’t be driven to my place, it has to be towed, the crew is still at my old residence waiting for the tow truck. At this point, all I can do is laugh. Maniacally. And reschedule the elevators. Yet again. Okeeeeeeee.

So, hop in the car and head back to the old place, thinking I’ll load some of the last-minute stuff (that I thought would already be in my new place, had the schedule gone as planned). Get to the old place, see that the tow truck still hasn’t arrived. Mess around, my moving ADD has kicked in by now and I’m throwing individual items in the car rather than dealing with them in an organized fashion. Tow truck arrives around 2:45ish, hooray! By the time the moving truck is hoisted and on the road to my new place, it’s 3 p.m. Hmmm, I had planned to be mostly unpacked by now.

So, I drive like a maniac to my nice new apartment building and go upstairs to the balcony to watch the moving truck being towed into the driveway. Smoking like a maniac all the while. I credit the apartment building personnel with great professionalism and patience…this may have been the most entertaining move they’ve seen in a while.

The two nice young men very quickly unloaded my goods, placed everything where I asked, and we were done by about 5:30. About three or four hours after my ETA, but everything is there and in one piece.

I give El Cheapo Movers credit, I called around 3 or 4 when my patience was a trifle thin (actually, I was on the verge of being a raving maniac, albeit a polite one) and they immediately called back and gave me a 50% discount on the move because of all the problems.

Then...I had taken my perma-foster cat Nellie to the vet on Thursday because he really wasn’t well. The vet said that Nellie had one or two viruses and a severe bacterial infection. Nellie is an older gent with an unknown background, he was in horrid shape when the rescue took him in, he had to have sub-q fluids and medications at home for quite a while, so we’ve always dealt with him with our fingers crossed.

Saturday morning, just when I thought it was safe to go back in the water, the vet called. Nellie wasn’t responding to the meds and was deteriorating. He was suffering. I had asked the vet to call me if Nellie had to be euthanized because I wanted to be with him, so he didn’t die with strangers. It was his time. So, I had to race through a shower, find clothing (right after moving…ha!), and hurtle to the vet’s as fast as possible. Nellie was cuddled and warm and heard a familiar voice singing his name and smelled a familiar person as he walked across the Bridge.

I kept my sunglasses on and went to the grocery store to shop for a bit. Being in a public place would probably stop me from crying for Nellie.

So, that’s it. I’m in the new place, which I like very, very much. Marty, Mikey and Daisy seem quite happy, although somewhat confused. And I am hoping that this is the last of the bad luck for this year.

Here’s a pictorial explanation of why I’m (almost) living on my balcony these days.

And one of Nellie, to say farewell to a lovely old gent who deserved far better than he got. Nellie Jellie Bellie, you wait there at the Bridge with Sara and Patches and Emily and Arlee and Abbitt and Mac and Nink and everyone else, I'll be along.