The rain maker

For anyone who needs a direction to point the finger of blame for the rain on Sunday, point it at me. I moved. It was a rough final week of packing after work, and then all day on Saturday.

A friend of mine offered to help me pack, and did an incredible job of keeping me moving and packing things herself, despite not feeling very healthy all week. Without your help, this move would not have gone half as smoothly as it did. Thank you.

The movers arrived about 10 minutes early on Sunday morning and we continued to stuff boxes while they carried stuff to the truck.

Some of you may wonder why I paid for movers when I have strong, healthy friends to abuse. The house I left is perched on a hill with a sloped driveway and 44 stairs from the carport to the front door. Asking friends to help you move out of a place like that is cruel and unusual punishment. The movers had the truck loaded in about 2 and a half hours. Once we had dealt with the couple of gallons of diesel that had leaked out of the truck into a bucket, we were on our way to Mountain View and the rain.

My new apartment is now full of boxes that are quasi-labeled. I still have to clean the old place and do a walk-through, and once Friday night hits, I won't be home much for three weeks.

I am stark raving mad.