I wish I was an artist sometimes. Not because I have an untapped well of human experience that I want to share with the world, no. I wish I was an artist because I’m not sure I can properly express in words the amount of frustration that has oozed from my family and I since we moved here. Frustration that I am channeling inward towards my inevitable ulcer, possibly aneurysm. I’m not good with biology.
It’s been two weeks since my last update. Since then, I have managed to lose my Blizzard account authenticator. I should have used the phone app, I know that now. But losing my fob is just the start. The list of things we’ve done to make this place a home is impressive. The list of tasks yet to be done feels staggering. Everyone says moving is an unpleasant thing to do. But any word one uses to describe it feels insufficient in the moment. I guess that’s true with a lot of things. It pleases me to think that a year from now this will just be ‘that one time’ when we spent weeks at our wit’s end. It’s one of the things keeping me going, honestly. However, being as this is called ‘Moving Stories’ I should probably tell you guys one.
I have one word to say to the electrician that wired this house. Schooling, as in, get some. I won’t presume to know the kind of work that goes into wiring a house. I’ve never done it and I’ve never watched it be done. However, I know a flawed design when I see it. Flaw number one, major appliances don’t always have their own circuits. Flaw number two, major appliances that don’t have their own circuit share it with huge chunks of the rest of the house. Flaw number three, whatever it is that makes slightly different parts of the house lose power when the same circuit blows. Seriously, it’s weird. The last flaw is that there’s no surge protector on our 100 amp electrical panel. I just recently learned that 100 amps is completely insufficient for a house of five gamers all of whom like to enjoy their electronics when they’re home. But we knew about that problem going in, and it will be fixed soon.
On a more positive note, the new Borderlands game comes out on the 14th. My goal is to have time to play it by then. I’m really looking forward to playing as Claptrap. Some people find him annoying but I think he’s hilarious.
I spent last night packing up the basement of the house where I grew up. You’d think that would have led to Tea and I finding precious objects from our childhood while discovering forgotten memories. That couldn’t be farther from the truth. What we did last night was put books from the library into boxes. That doesn’t sound so bad, right? Put the box together, put the books in it, tape it up, next box. Easy peasy lemon squeezy. WRONG! Between Tea’s fibromyalgia and me being embarrassingly overweight, what should have been simple for people in their 20s became a pain filled evening of monotonous torment. I used to tease my father when he complained about back pain. Not in a school yard bully kind of way, but still. I now understand his anguish. The worst part is I know that it’ll just get worse as I grow older, especially if I don’t ditch this weight. I can’t imagine what Tea went through. She started in the morning, I showed up later. That’s right, it took an entire day to pack the staggering amount of books my family has collected and kept throughout the years. By the end I started wishing I could just look at a pile of books and hold the G key on some imaginary keyboard. This would, of course, make the pile of books bag itself like in Payday 2. Then I could toss them around all I wanted and they wouldn’t tear, bend, or otherwise lose value. *Sigh* that would have been wonderful.