Such are the woes of moving bit by bit, while moving all at once has equally terrible but distinct woes.
We tried to move in a carefully orchestrated fashion this time, but when we arrived in the truck at the new place at 11:00 p.m., dragged out the mattress, and removed the carefully planned basket of sheets and towels for use before we could get to the rest of the truck in the morning, we realized neither one of us had any clean clothes.
We got a lot of unpacking done before breakfast the next day!
I made the exact same mistake with tree identification and a black walnut. And I usually pride myself on my tree identification skills, being forced to learn about 30 varieties in 7th grade. The thing about black walnuts is that they even smell like sumacs. The walnuts dropping off the tree the following fall was a dead giveaway. It was a lovely tree. Too bad it had to die. (black walnuts trees poison other plants, and nothing stains flooring so well as rotting walnut husks trampled underfoot)
Trust me, even when your houses are only two miles away from each other, the wrong thing is always at the wrong place--which can be a real pain in the butt when you're a knitter.
Am so enjoying reading your description of the move, and the poem was amazing!
We are spending the first night camping out in our new house on Wednesday. From one new house to another, good luck. And thank you for the Robert Herrick poem. Don't forget the champagne.
And speaking as one who has two houses (well, a small apartment and a house), I can confirm from experience that yes, the book you are reading, and the CD you need to listen to, are always at the residence where you are not. To say nothing of the yarn/pattern/needles....
Last year I was living in two places for 6 months - several weeks at a time in a studio flat in London to do research and then my flat at home in Wales for much needed breaks. Same problem: nothing was ever where I wanted it.
(Plus, there are too many shopping opportunities in London: in just 6 months I managed somehow to accumulate enough stuff which I just *had* to keep to need to rent a car to take it home!)
What a lovely poem for a "new" house.
I love black walnuts; it was always so much fun gathering them up in the fall and pretending they were food. (The stains really weren't the effort for my parents to make them actual food...)
Lovely, lovely poem.
I can't wait to hear about the Camping Out Aventure.
You're absolutely right about the stuff-between-multiple-homes comment. My wife and I couldn't get out of our old apartment's lease when I got a job significantly to the south of Houston (said old apartment is near the center of the city). We had to get a new place, but have been stuck with the old one for months. We're constantly saying things like, "Where is the dishwashing fluid? It's at the old apartment" or "Where is the telephone power cord?* It's at the old apartment."
*We looked for that telephone power cord for hours. No luck. Good luck in moving, incidentally.
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