We closed on the house yesterday. It's a done deal, and it's ours. We've got keys and everything. The previous owners are paying us rent for a week while they pack up. Their movers show up on the sixth, and we start hauling our stuff in on the seventh. (We're plotting how to get the beds over there that night so we can start living there instantly.)
The Goober is getting more and more impatient to get out of this apartment. Which means she's getting more and more awful. She's driving me insane, and there's been a lot of getting sent to her room and being made to sit in the middle of the living room with the TV off, pondering her bad behavior.
The next clusterfuck on the horizon is the movers bringing our stuff from South Carolina. We scheduled it for delivery the fifteenth. For some reason, we know not what, they don't like that date and want to deliver it earlier or later. (If it was such a bad date, why in bloody hell didn't they say the day wouldn't work and schedule us for something else??!??) The hub got a call today from them, saying our stuff was on a truck in the state TODAY, and they wanted us to pay $500 to store it up here until they could deliver it. Huh? Where in the contract is that wrinkle?
So the stress is still high, but it is shifting, and there is a light at the end of the tunnel.
Or perhaps it's an oncoming train.