So, yesterday Ellie started moving her stuff. She got married back in December and she moved her bed sometime early last month. But since then her room has just been sitting there, mostly abandoned. She borrowed her father's truck and trailer and her husband and Writer Guy (who happened to be over and is just nice like that) moved her furniture while the other four of us watched.
The room is still fairly full. Her furniture is mostly moved. I'm not sure yet how I am going to react if that room gets emptied and the keys to the truck are in there. You know, since I lost them in July. And they weren't mine. Her room is the only place I ever thought they might've ended up that I didn't feel I got to examine adequately. If they aren't in there, I resort back to blaming The Boy Whose Father Hates Me, because he was the last person in the house that night.
We went through the kitchen and played "Is this yours?" because while I know what I own and Emma knows what she owns and Kristie knows what she owns.... Ellie does not know which is hers. But we got most of it finished. Dishes and cups are easy. Small appliances and accessories aren't too hard. Silverware is going to be a monster task.
In more uplifting news... yesterday Kristie, Writer Guy and I went out to play frisbee golf. In case anyone was wondering, I still suck. Kristie and I were about evenly matched, she was a little better. Writer Guy was somewhere along the bottom edges of decent among frisbee golfers. He probably went one or two over par on every hole. I was more like dealing in multiples (or possibly even exponents) of par.
It was really fun. No one tried to teach me how to throw a frisbee or better my game in any way. I was allowed to just wander about the course turning cartwheels and smoking cigarettes and giggling while flinging my frisbee all askew.
Writer Guy brought paper and a pen, he thought he would keep score. That only held up for one hole because Kristie and I lost interest in counting how many times we threw the frisbee. For the first seven, I kept track of our progress relative to eachother. Until Kristie was behind by like eight and I was behind by like fifteen.
Then I sort of lost interest in that in favor of gymnastics. I never did hit a front walkover the way I would've liked, but I didn't fall on my head, so I guess that counts for something.
Writer Guy also took the cat's side and persuaded me that his leg looks good enough that he could go back to being an indoor/outdoor cat. During the moving process, Isis came running into the house with something in his mouth. Emma started yelling "What's he got?". I picked him up and put him outside. I came back declaring that I didn't know what it was but it definitely had a wing.
I almost had to kill the bird myself because all the attention made Isis drop the bird and hide under the porch. Fortunately he came back out and finished the job. I really didn't want to have to kill the bird.
That was actually my second slightly odd and unpleasant thought inducing gift given by a male in the spirit of security yesterday. Writer Guy gave me mace. He had to drive all over town to find it. I know this because he was out shopping yesterday and I ran into him. He'd been to like four stores already and the one we were in didn't have it either.
Personally, I think it's a really nice gift. I mean, the thought being what counts, not the fact that it seems inevidble to me that a can of mace in my purse is somehow going to end in me accidentally spraying myself while trying to get my keys out. Mace says "I care about you and want you to be safe.". It's not like he bought it for my birthday or anything. I think it was nice...
