The movers spent about six, eight hours here today, dropping off all our stuff. Huh. After living out of a suitcase for a year, wow. We've got a lot of stuff. The husbeast overheard me telling the washing machine "It's so good to see you! You have no idea how I've missed you." and I caught the Goober hugging the couch.
Unfortunately they lost a bunch of our hardware to put stuff together, raked a hole in the finish of my kitchen table, ripped some veneer off a dresser, scratched the dryer to shit... well. Yeah. This was not the fault of the movers who delivered the stuff today. This is on the motherfucking cocksuckers who had it in storage. If they actually stored my washing machine and refrigerator (oh, the fridge; it's full of black mold) in a controlled environment, inside, I will drink a bottle of fabric softener. Someone's ears are getting pinned back over this one.
But, the movers today were nice, and my stuff is here. I love my stuff. The husbeast is almost cheerful and I think I might have caught him not frowning once.
Tomorrow the in-laws show up to stay overnight, and then disappear to the beach, taking the Goober with them. Meaning I need to find the guest room bed and sheets for it, before tomorrow. And find the stove to cook dinner. Or something.
Fun part? In the morning, I have a doctor's appointment. It looks like I have shingles.
Yeah. So, it's pretty much the fucked-up norm around here again.