No Happy Face Yet

Today was FAR easier than yesterday.  The packers did their thing, and were so fast that we may be a full day ahead of schedule.  They may have us loaded and outta here tomorrow.  I am not excited about this.  I am not happy about the surprise.  I want things to run on schedule, and not off schedule.  I need things to be predictable right now.  Really, I need to chill the hell out.

We did a mock load of all our gear into the cars today and can't seem to get the cat cages to fit.  It looks like we may have to make room and eat a well marbled cat. . . . good thing we've fattened two of them up.  Their pelts would keep my head warm this coming winter, while I freeze my New Mexican ass off on a glacier.

AJ had to take the doors off of the refrigerator to make it fit out the front door tomorrow.  He was following the directions and prying the plastic parts off to expose hinges and screws and wires. . .  I watched the plastic flex as he popped things apart and I about started screaming.  My beloved, extravagant bitch of a refrigerator looked like she might break and I was about to come UNDONE if I had to buy a new one or try to track down obscure parts on the Samsung website. I honestly thought that I might stab his plastic-bending fingers with a hex-wrench. . . but then realized that we would have to leave the fridge with the house if I did that.  Thankfully the removal process went alright.  Tomorrow we may reattach them once we get it out the door.  It was a hell of a process though - I'd rather not reattach anything until we get it into our house up in the frozen tundra.

 LORD I need to snap out of this funk I'm in.  I'm soooo grumpy.  I need to get excited about this adventure, because I did after all agree to go on the damn adventure in the first place.  I need to look forward to frostbite and bear spray.  It should excite me to have to elbow my way through crowds of ridiculously confused tourists in the grocery store every spring and summer.  ;-)

And isn't it fantastic that the rivers are scheduled to be very close to flood stage the week we roll into town?  I think it is AWESOME that the towns are all ready with their Army Corps sandbags and 96 hour survival kits.  We will float into town with our New Mexican flip flops on our feet, green chile burritos and newly tanned skin, curious about the water lapping at the bottom of the bridges.  Then we will die with a whimper in the mountains while we wait to be air lifted to safety after the bridges wash out, because we didn't attend the local town meeting that told us to put heavy weaponry into our 96 hour survival kits to keep the lurking mountain meth heads from looting our home in the chaos of a 100 year flood. 

I'm totally kidding.  But now you know for sure just how crazy lack of sleep has made me.