The Move

No doubt about it. Dad's days of living in his own house were quite over. Even thought I spent six to eight hours a day over there, there were still too many hours left over for him to get into trouble. Evidence? Finding the microwave with 23:89 left on the clock and a melted styrofoam cup inside. My asking the question, “If there was fire coming out of that outlet right there, what would you do?” and him replying, “dogs...yeah...I need.” In fact, I think we waited too long to make a decision regarding his safety. It sneaked up on us.

Maybe my husband, son and I are a little daft. In fact, I think there is no question. Only crazy people would consider what we were considering. Nevertheless, we made the family decision to move dad into our house in lieu of a nursing facility. Why? Well, first of all, nursing homes are horribly expensive - $4000 a month in our area. Second of all, and most importantly, he is family, and family does for family. We prayed about it, and felt that it was the right thing to do. We talked some more. We prayed some more. And we knew. This was what we were supposed to do. Now. Implementation.

I explained to dad what we were going to do, and for that moment, he was pleased that he was going to be living with us. Get approval from dad? Check. Call landlord and give notice? Check. Storage unit? Check. Move dad, hospital bed, chest of drawers, recliner, clothing to our house? Check. Change of address? Check. All going like clockwork. But wait. There is a whole houseful of stuff...a lifetime of stuff...still occupying dad's soon-to-be-ex-house. Uh oh. I knew what that meant. A yard sale.

The “Estate Sale” was scheduled for three weeks hence, and the preparations began. Jodi came over on a Saturday, and we worked for five straight hours grouping, pricing, deciding. Didn't look too difficult, except for one small detail. His stuff was majoritively garbage. He had given away most of the “good stuff” before he moved here, and the rest of it was really not terribly attractive. So we stuck price tags on his stuff, ran an ad and made signs, and waited for the public throngs of people to arrive.

Two days later, I am whipped. I feel like I have been run through a meat grinder – backwards. Grand total? $312.75. And there is a ton of stuff to go to Goodwill. Then, I must clean and shampoo all carpets, turn over keys, and call it good.

I don't know how long I have been dealing with two houses on a seven-day-a-week basis. I just know it's been “years” as opposed to “days”. And I know that all I want is to only have one place to clean. One place to live in. One place to be. And the day is coming – soon.

I can't wait.