The movers had not been told about the piano. Or that it was a "full pack" move. And the woman who told me packing materials were included in the cost had lied to me. It was in the fine print on the email confirmation, after a long list of "no additional charge for" items. But the movers were cool about it, had me chat with the guy in the office, and maybe the materials will come in under $100. Maybe.
I have a lot more stuff than I thought. I really should have done a better job of clearing out old clothes, especially the dozen or so jackets I rarely wear.
The weather gods have smiled on me. I had expected rain, but it's a lovely sunny day, and so bright out here I can hardly read the screen.
Half an hour into the move, Pumpkin made a mad dash downstairs, and instead of heading for the open front door he wanted to get out onto the patio. As I came toward him he let out a yowl I have never heard before, then he dashed back upstairs under the bed. About 15 minutes ago he came downstairs again, I opened the patio door, and picked him up and brought him inside, opened the door to the bathroom, and put him inside, but Domino rushed out. I cornered her by the cat perch in the livingroom, and she hissed at me, but didn't fight as I picked her up and managed to get her into the bathroom without Pumpkin getting out. hey have their food, water and litterbox in there and a little area they can hunker down. I hate having to do that, but it's better than the cages at the pound or a kennel. And less expensive.
After I post this I think I'll go back to reading my new book, A Crack in the Edge of the World by Simon Winchester. It's a geologist's take on the 1906 SF quake, and was highly recommended by a friend who used to work for Shell. And it has all kinds of kudos for being fabulous writing. But after reading the prologue, I think it's probably just fabulous compared to the usual dry academic texts, not compared, say, to Ray Bradbury.
