There was a year of brooding and considering whether to leave Salt Lake or not, then a year of planning. Sam and I have only had six homes during four decades of marriage. Each one has been a life chapter. Bits and pieces of how I thought, felt and looked while I lived in each one carries memories of that time. (Me once again trying to make my small life universe important.) This blog covers the last word on the page of living in Salt Lake City and the first sentences of an Arizona chapter.
Three days before the movers came the house had snow to the mailbox. Would I miss the snow? The view of the sky out my window? My
garden? The rock in the fireplace? Would I miss the me Irma calls “Hey You” who lived there and by the end of the month would be celebrating a birthday to clinch the deal of Life-Always-Changes-So-Move-On-Woman?
Monday, January 14: Four men of human size carried boxes, wrapped and moved furniture beyond my understanding of leverage and mass. I did incantations to protect their bodies and souls
and send them on to healthy pain-free lives. The last night was spent in sleeping bags on hard floor.
Considering the weather my friends in Utah have suffered since we left, we were extremely lucky to travel in twenty degree weather that was clear with dry roads. Four days passed in transit and then staying with my mother who is sixty miles from the new home.
The day before the truck was to come we went to the house to prepare. The truck was waiting for us! Things! Things! I was happy to see “my things” safely ensconced in front of the house. After dark we stood in the backyard and saw three times the stars we saw from our Salt Lake home. The night was spent in sleeping bags on a hard floor.
Then life became a blur of resettling and reorienting.
Monday, January 21: Four men from the same tribe as the Utah men arrived at 9:15 and had unloaded
everything by 11:30. There was a fast food dinner and appreciated sleep on a real bed by two resident inferior capacity bodies.
Tuesday: The refrigerator came.
The delivery man was from Texas. A visit to a grocery store for three days of provisions, more unpacking.
Wednesday: A man brought up in Minnesota came by to start and explain the water purifier. More unpacking and a wandering around to find a Home Depot to buy dryer hookups, light bulbs, and wood glue. My provisions had not included salt or antibacterial handsoap, etc., so there was another grocery visit.
Thursday: More unpacking. I discovered an odd, delightful pleasure in unpacking. Every new box was a child’s birthday or Christmas present I would use to develop myself. Fun! A man originally from Florida and then Las Vegas came to demonstrate operation of the gas fireplace. We cannot rearrange the logs, but the heat was reassuring when it pumped out through top vents and yes, it was a cool enough evening to turn it on and watch the repetitive, comforting flames. Dinner was at a small Mexican restaurant that is more take-out than restaurant, but it was fresh and cheap (Bill: $12).
Friday: Clothes washer that was brought stalled on first load when it should have started washing and produced a burning smell. Repairman Mike (who grew up in Baltimore) promised to come Saturday. It began raining. Sam and I were tired and we ached and we were a little grumpy so we eased off on the talking because it’s a little risky what soft spot may be hit either purposely or innocently. Four decades of marriage leaves “best options” to avoid unnecessary confrontations. Still no internet or TV. Or a friend within hundreds of miles.
Saturday: It rains all day. We visit a department store to get a television that must be at house for installation. Sam and I peer with dollar signs in our eyes at washing machines and hear sales talks. New washing machines are prettier. (Come to think of it newer human beings than me are prettier too. Is the world working toward a natural evolution of pretty or am I getting tired and not able to think straight?) We find a different and better grocery store where I buy more than three days of
meals and Sam gets the new version of Total Recall at Redbox for the evening’s entertainment. Repairman Mike comes at 5:00 and declares the sixteen-year-old washing machine not only pretty, but beautiful. It was made in an era of quality, he says, and for a mere $130 he can bring what he calls a capacitor tomorrow and it will work for years. I decide to bond with the new kitchen, so I make Cranberry Coconut Cookies. We watch Total Recall and I make a Rachel Ray pasta recipe for dinner.
Sunday: The man who installs internet is welcomed and offered cookies. He is retired from the military and came to Arizona via New Mexico and Germany where he would like to live now. Two young guys come to mount the television over the fireplace. The boss was born in Connecticut and the young helper was a native Arizonian! We think he has a hangover. Mike returns and while he fixes the beautiful washing machine he tells us stories of the washing machine industry and moving around the country before settling in Arizona eleven years ago. So many people willing to work on a Sunday is astounding by my Utah standards. But then so are the $2 coupons off Tanqueray Gin at Walgreen’s in the newspaper. It rains all day.
Monday, January 28: The pile of laundry after two weeks begins to diminish after many loads. Sam and I relax and return to a view of fun and excitement. Another trip to Home Depot results in a more organized master closet. The rain came ended.
Tuesday: The Direct TV guy does not tell me where he is from, but tells me the advantages and disadvantages of local banks. Somehow that completes this chapter of moving. It is good to be back in working order and now I can begin to look around and see ways to leave this fine house for hours or days at at time to explore.
Wednesday: Sorry for such a long blog, but I just wanted to get his all out and finished so I can move on.