Thursday I was sitting around waiting for boxes. Trying to remain positive. Doing other things to move the whole moving project along. Wrote my silly little post. At 5 or 6 I called Lowes, they tracked the shipment and discovered it was picked up in South San Francisco at 3:30. OK. South San Francisco is about twenty minutes away. I held out hope for a late delivery but no. Now I have a FedEx tracking number and I see that they will be delivered the next day. I have a Chiropractic appointment, which I need but I decide to move to Monday because I don't want to be gone when the boxes arrive. I'm not happy but I feel like I can still make it work.
Friday morning I track the package and it's on the truck by 8:00 AM. I wait. And wait. At some point I check the Fed Ex site and the package has been taken back to the facility in South San Francisco with no attempt at delivery. WTF? I call and get customer service blahblahblah and am told someone from the local facility will call. They never do.
I'm not really up for what I need to do. I don't have strength, stamina, balance. And still I've been doing it. I've been packing and pushing boxes around and getting it done. But I have to stop and rest so often. And what if I need more boxes? I need to get things (mostly books) packed so that I can see if I have enough. It takes me time. The stress is building and the worst part is I feel so alone. The people I rely on are on vacation, or dealing with family emergencies. People have said they will come to help but aren't saying when. My apartment is torn up.
This entire process has been troubled by system failures. The post office doesn't get things delivered even when extra money is paid. Bankers don't return emails. Just lots of things not going well and I feel so worn out. I get that moving is always stressful but when I was younger and more able I could deal with it all. I could work a little harder. I could shift and adapt. Now I operate in a narrow band. Things that go wrong narrow it even more.
I mean that's the things we all deal with isn't it? Something went wrong. It happens. We adapt. We deal. Maybe we rant out for a minute and then we recover and we deal. I just don't have an reserve. I don't recover quickly. I guess these are the problems of privilege. People are living in boxes and I'm freaked out because a delivery of them has been delayed. These boxes have been on a truck twenty minutes from my house for three days. It's maddening.
Saturday I get an email from Lowes saying my package has been delayed. Really? I check the FedEx web site and the boxes are on the truck by 7:30 AM. I wait. 10:30. 11:30. 12:30. 1:30. 2:30. 3:30. Debbie calls to take me to the store and just as we're discussing what to do since I can't leave my apartment the buzzer sounds. I push it and shout out the door but no answer. They have left the box full of boxes at the bottom of the stairs.
Debbie says she'll help me get it up the steps after we shop so I start out the door and run into a neighbor and his son. His son picks up the box like it's a box of Kleenex and runs it up the steps. Phew.
A week from now the movers will be hauling stuff out of my apartment. The next day I will walk into the nest. I'm calling the condo the nest. Jennie noticed that I'm moving from Chestnut Street to Oak Street, which I had already noticed and found amusing. I'll be perched in my new tree. In my nest. And things will still go wrong. But for all the reasons I keep listing (no steps, washer and drier, friends close by) it feels like things will be easier. I'll be able to rebuild a reserve.
At least that's my hope.