Thursday, June 29, 2017


“Moving right along”
Hey, I'll keep writing, though.

            ROOFTOP – At this very moment, we’re sitting atop an empty house. There’s nothing down below to sit on, nothing to eat and nothing to eat WITH even if you had something to eat. The bathroom still functions, but if you want to take a shower, since there are no towels you’ll have to run around to dry off. I tried it only once, and the neighbors gave me such grief.

            Yep, everything has been boxed-up and hauled off. Even some important stuff that I didn’t intend to get hauled got hauled. The day has been intense rooftoppers. I’m sorry you missed it. Seriously. I could’ve used your brain. Mine went numb a time or two. In fact, I’m not clearhammered yet. I mean clearheaded.

            We had plenty of muscle on hand. “Two Men and a Truck” showed up at nine this morning. You can imagine my surprise when I discovered that the two men turned out to be two giants and a smaller guy. They worked in a hurry, like they forgot they were working by the hour. I chose not to remind them. 

Fast and strong they were. We have two recliner rockers that took Freeman, Big Al and me an hour to get through the front door. The things weigh a ton, and you have to finagle them through the doorway.

            So, one of the mover giants grabbed the maroon chair, lifted it above his head, walked sideways out the door, and handed it to the little guy standing in the back of the truck. Right behind him came the other giant with the second chair. It was like that all morning.

            As safety conscious as I am, I managed to secure all the doors and drawers on the dressers, end tables and chest of drawers so they wouldn’t swing open while being carried. I was helping Freeman once move a China Cabinet out the door and one of the glass doors swung open mid-carry. My cat-like reflexes kicked in, and I immediately sent my foot through the glass.

Had the door been solid wood, I would’ve saved the day. As it was, I was lucky to save my leg.  From a slice on my shin, blood began shooting everywhere. I practically had to take the shirt off of Freeman’s back to stop the blood so I could survive the trip to the emergency room.

That’s why I secure all furniture and appliance doors. I just don’t want anyone else to experience what I did. I’m not going to experience it again, because I don’t move furniture anymore. And, China cabinets? I won’t tolerate ‘em. Kay can't make me.

Speaking of Kay, she’s down there watering the flowerbeds. At two o’clock tomorrow, this house belongs to someone else; yet, Kay is watering the plants. It’s that strong character that first attracted me to her. That and her inability to throw a punch. Puts her thumb inside her fist and swings entirely with her elbow. (Notice I didn't say "like a girl")

Like I said, everything in the house has been moved to the storage unit. I told the boss giant I doubted it would all fit in our 10’ by 20’ climate controlled unit. He said, "I think I can get it in." Man of few words.

 When Kay in I return from our five-month stay in Washington, I’ll have to hire the same guys to unload the storage unit. I think they used a Chinese puzzle technique to get everything to fit.

            But it’s all good. Upon exiting Texas, we plan to go through northern New Mexico, Colorado, Wyoming, Montana and eventually sneak into Washington from Idaho. If all goes well, we should be at my niece and her husband’s farm near Grandview by the next article. It will take us about two and half days to unload the car.

            The only way we’ll be able to bring back souvenirs from our visit is to leave some of our belongings behind. One of Kay’s friends asked her to bring her back some apples. You can have your Washington apples shipped to HEB by train or truck. They’ll taste every bit as good as if they travelled 2200 miles stuffed beneath a bag of Kay’s shoes in the back of our Highlander. No apples, apricots or cute rocks from Mt. Rainer
            I may take a photo of the total eclipse of the sun that’s happening in Oregon on August 21. I’d get Kay in the picture, but she’s afraid of heights. Obviously, you can find much better eclipse photos on the Internet. So, no photos. Just expect a weekly account of “Adventures in the Northwest with Mark and Kay.”

            I will have to experience as much as I can during this trip, because I seriously doubt the Washington family will have me back. After even one milking, the goats won’t let me near their udders. At least that’s what I’m hoping.

            I’m fairly sure that by November I’ll want to come home, almost as much the Washington clan will want me to go home. I’ll be anxious to experience a roofsit atop the new house. Mostly, I’ll be glad to have my favorite pillow back. Seems, I forgot to get it off the bed before the moving guys loaded it up. Right now it’s somewhere between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man's fears and the summit of his knowledge. Next stop: The Storage Unit.

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