Since this is a blog mainly about diabetes, I will confess before I start telling any stories that my self-maintenance has been a little shoddy over the past couple of weeks. I have been better at treating the after-effects of stress, carb-heavy meals, more excercise than usual, etc. than I have been at anticipating any changes in myself. However, can you blame me? Moving is not easy, and I'm just trying to stay on top of things. I'm getting back into my diabetes routine now that I feel my life has a somewhat-regular routine again.
It was Saturday before last. Matt's dad and little brother had come to help us out. Friday night, we relaxed and caught up. Saturday, the packing and truck-loading bonanza began. Our friend Evan came over to help out as well. Things were progressing just fine. Then we got a little rocky news after lunch. Matt let his dad know the plan: we would pack all day Saturday, then move the stuff on Sunday. Our truck didn't have to be returned until Monday.
Matt's dad basically said, "Oh? Really?"
In all the stress, Matt had failed to inform his dad of this plans. Things were tense momentarily, but got back to normal quickly. More packing. I run out with Evan to the moving company's office to pick up some more bubble wrap and boxes. Matt calls me. Matt's brother needs to get back to Williamsport by 8am for a meeting at work. Packing shall resume at a breakneck pace. We are determined to leave Delaware by 8pm. Then Matt's dad and brother will drive back to Williamsport once we unload our moving truck.
I get back. I work. I stress. I stop to have a drink and a snack. I work. I pack. I pack some more. I whine. I test to find some kind of high number, so I bolus, I have some water, I get back to work.
My temper flares a couple of times. My anxiety kicks in when my back aches, and I have no place left to sit.
We have yet another surprise. Matt's brother has managed to lose his wallet somewhere back in Williamsport, so he can't drive Matt's car up to PA with the rest of the moving caravan. We'll need to make a trip back to Delaware on Sunday to pick it up. Fabulous.
We sigh. We deal with it and move on. We even manage to get our thrift store La-Z-Boy sofa down the three flights of stairs without it breaking. This leads Matt and I to decide that it can go on the truck. Hey, we'll need something to sit on in Blue Bell until we can get more furniture. It's outlived its $75 purchase price, so we can reward it with a new home.
I white-knuckle it up the Blue Route (aka 476, aka the Northeast Extension [of the PA Turnpike]) and through Plymouth Meeting. I've never driven to Blue Bell, and it looks quite a bit different at night. I'm used to visiting during the day. I see road signs for nearby towns. I wonder where I might end up working, how far it is to nearby shopping. Will I make friends? Will I find a doctor that I like? I pull in to our new home. The guys are already unloading the truck. I had to stop for gas on the way out of Delaware, so I told them not to wait on me, but to call if they needed anything.
I step into our townhouse, and my voice bounces off the walls. I can't wait to fill this place with furniture. With lights. With friends. With anything other than boxes!
Welcome home, I say to myself. The couch is hauled in, and I flop on it once it's in place. Soon our bed is set up. Soon my father- and brother-in-law are back on the road. I snuggle up against Matt and try not to think about how tomorrow we'll be driving back to Delaware. That's not even the first thing on our agenda. We'll make this work.
More moving stories to come...