Also known as "I love my sister but I must be crazy."
So welcome to the new schedule of posts here at Lyre's Musings! In honor of our first Free for All Friday, I have a fantastic rant for you.
Last weekend I helped one of my sisters move. Now, I've been helping her off and on over the last month with packing in preparation of said move. I didn't think we'd survive. :-) She got a late start and, boy, I thought there'd be packing right up until the last minute. By some miracle, she got most of the packing done in advance. Her husband, well. I love my brother-in-law, but woah. He has many, many talents. Packing is not one of them.
So, Saturday is "U-haul brings belongings from townhouse in Pville to apt in Woodbridge" day. Being the good sister I am, I managed to be available (with some help from my supervisor who needed someone to switch from Sat night to Tues day for coverage and asked me first). The plan, according to my brother-in-law, was for my sister and I to stay inside the apartment and direct incoming boxes/items and/or move boxes/items to their designated places. This is one of many reasons I absolutely love my brother-in-law. Allow me to delegate and NOT have to lug boxes out of the U-haul and up the stairs? HELL YES. No prob, Bob.
Things are plugging along fairly nicely and then it's after 7pm and the U-Haul is empty. My sister needs to take my brother-in-law's nephews back to Pville. Ugh. She also has to return the U-haul. Double Ugh. Plus, her cats (my fur nieces and nephews) are still in Pville and she really wants to bring them back to the apt. She's been up and moving since 7am. Does she need sleep? Desperately. But she goes and does all of that, leaving me to help unpack.
Love is letting your sister set up your altar for you so it's done. Love is also using that trust to set up the altar in a way that your sister will be happy. Needless to say, it took me an hour to unpack all the altar supplies and another 30 minutes to set it up in a way that would make her happy. Then I started unpacking the bedroom stuff, so that her room was more the master bedroom and less of a room with a ton of shit in it. As a military brat, I have moved more times than I care to remember. Bedrooms and kitchen were always the first to be unpacked. In that order. She came back, cats in tow, and we set them free in the apartment to explore.
She cried when she saw her bedroom. Boy, did I have moment of "Crap! She doesn't like something! I can fix it, I can fix it!" Fortunately, it was a good kind of cry.
The next two days were clean the townhouse so that they'd get the security deposit back. Want good exercise? Scrub the hell out of a townhouse - kitchens, bathrooms. My arms ached for days afterwards. Good workout, though, I guess.
The most important thing is that my sister (and brother-in-law and fur nieces and nephew) are back in Woodbridge and I don't have to drive over an hour to see them. :-)