The Result of Internet Deprivation

I haven't been this internet-deprived since high school (back in the day when the intertrons weren't really part of most teenagers' daily activities). This deprivation is the result of various happenings (my office being paranoid, for one) and nonhappenings (Time-Warner being glitchy). Much has happened in the last week - so much, in fact, that I'm going to divide this post into sections for your convenience. If a heading doesn't look all that interesting to you, you can just skip over it and head over to the next chapter!

In Which Me, S and Cats Relocate

S and I moved, beginning last Friday afternoon. It was arduous. It rained all weekend. I lived in a 90-year-old apartment up six flights of steep, narrow stairs (no elevators). I loved the old place, but it is just SO HARD to get things in and out of it, and there was definitely no room for another human, no matter how slim. We finally finished up the process on this past Tuesday night - it took five trips with my dad's pickup, and the help of S and my parents, to move all of MY things (S is only about halfway moved in), and I don't even own that many things! I have several pieces of nice furniture, lots of clothes and books. I must've thrown out about 60% of my odds and ends during the moving process; anything that I couldn't live without went into the dumpster with heartless precision and no second thoughts. Our new apartment is flooded with pianos (yes! plural!), S's piles and stacks of music books, electronics... And it was chock full of ugly old bookcases, until we donated them to GCF on Wednesday evening. Now, where to put the books?

The new place... Is decadent, after two years living barebones. Posh, even. All new stainless steel appliances, two roman tubs, new carpet, a lovely patio, brushed nickel fixtures, 11-foot ceilings with double crown moldings, ceramic tiled foyer and kitchen... It's beautiful. It seems like such a luxury to have a dishwasher, a disposal, and a brand-new washer and dryer. And I have a Companion with whom to eat rice chex at 7 AM before work, to goof off with in the evenings, to go on walks with, to read with, to cook dinner with, to tease the cats with, to snuggle. He even does amazing things like unload dishwashers and transfer loads of laundry to the dryer! AND! He sings ever so beautifully. And he puts up with my frequent idiotic singing and frolicking. Definitely not for the faint of heart.

In Which I Argue with Everybody

I've been in A State. I argued with the leasing agent at my old apartment regarding the actual date that I informed her that I'd be moving out. Back at the beginning of June, I called her and told her specifically that I would be moving out on August 21st. I left a quick note in her mailkbox the morning of August 18th to remind her to inspect the empty apartment after I moved, and her assistant called me later to inform me that she considered the note I left on the 18th to be my formal written statement of vacancy, and that I'd have to pay rent until SEPTEMBER 18th, since she needs 30 days' notice. I was furious of course, and asked her WHY she didn't tell me I had to issue a written statement of my intent to move out back when I gave her the specific date in June! We argued, the assistant got flustered and handed the phone over to J (property manager), with whom I argued even more. She effectively ended the argument whewn she read from the lease agreement: "Occupant must issue a written statement expressing their intent to move 30 days in advance."

HARRUMPH!

When the power company shut the power off at the new apartment because of a "transfer delay," I called and harassed them about three times, until my phone ran out of batteries and I sat fuming on the floor in the air-conditionless living room. The work order had been assigned and the technician was out, and there was nothing the operator could do, of course.

BOO!

Monday and Tuesday consisted of a really neat training course in performance management systems, which was my specialty in grad school. Despite my enjoyment of the classes, I argued and argued with my team about the answers to exercises, about best practices, about laws and regulations, etc. I just couldn't stop.

And... Poor S. I fear I have been a very difficult housemate at times. :( My mother let me know that I haven't been this snippy and short-fused since I was a young teenager - a grave insult that I certainly deserve.

In Which Kiska Expresses her Dismay Very Loudly

I'd been stressed out about moving my little white cat for months. Everything terrifies her. She comes out in the dead of night to snuggle between us in bed, and occasionally to romp - but only if Jesper's nearby to give her confidence. She is not to be picked up, but she loves to be brushed and stroked. I called the vet for advice; she suggested kitty Valium, or to throw a towel over Kiska and roll her up burrito-style.

When last Friday dawned, I was already worrying about how the whole catching-Kiska escapade would go down. After our 2nd trip to the new place with my things, we decided to put the cats in their carriers; Jesper (who weighs 15 lbs.) into an itty-bitty, hard plastic kitten carrier, and Kiska into the airier soft carrier. We simply sat Jesper in front of his carrier and pushed on his butt to make him go in, no problems. Kiska, already terrified by all of the moving furniture, was on top of the cabinets in the kitchen. Steven climbed onto the window sill, threw a towel over her, and almost succeeded in catching her - but she slid out of the burrito like a bar of soap and took off for the living room, yowling like a banshee! Those noises, coming out of a tiny white kitty who often tries to meow and nothing comes out! I thought she was going to explode with fear. We figured that the towel idea wasn't going to work anymore, so we decided to manhandle her. We chased her into the bathroom, where she lodged herself behind the toilet and refused to budge, shouting, "MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW! MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW!" My dad was waiting quietly in the living room, wincing at her demonic howls. Meanwhile, Jesper reclined in his tiny carrier, wondering what all the fuss was about. Steven grabbed her body, I grabbed her feet, and we wrestled her into the carrier --- where she became silent and calm. What?!

She rode on Steven's lap while I drove with Jesper beside her, and neither of them emitted a single peep during the 30-minute drive. Steven talked to her and held her up to watch the scenery, and often faced she and Jesper together so that that she could see that he was with her; without Jesper, Kiska would probably be very, very lost in the world. He is her anchor to sanity and happiness. Wherever he strolls, she's on his heels. Whenever he talks, she comes to see what he's talking about. If he's snuggled in the chair, she comes to snuggle with him. I think he's irritated by her clinginess, but likes her well enough. She's conveniently warm and comfortable to snuggle against, after all. It's perhaps a little bit sad, and I've seen it happen before, in the human realm.

We arrived at the new apartment and put their carriers, litter box, and food in the spare bedroom, leaving the carrier doors open. We continued moving things from the truck for the next couple of hours. Later that evening, I went into the quiet spare bedroom to put my hand in Jesper's carrier, and felt two kitty heads! They were both smushed up together in that tiny kitten carrier.

In Which there is a Mandatory Candlelit Evening

On Tuesday evening, I arrived home after meeting my parents at my old apartment to move out completely, which took a couple of hours. I opened the door to discover a very warm apartment, kitties sprawled across the carpet, and ice melting in the freezer... No power. I called the power company and discovered that they wouldn't be able to transfer my account over to the new address until "early the next business day." Curses! I felt around in the dark for various candles and lit them. I sat in my Ugly Chair, pondering our attachment to electricity. I think that S and I are much less reliant upon it than most Americans; we barely watch a half-hour of TV a week. We spend a lot of time talking, discussing, reading, writing (me), singing (him), exercising (both).

When I was working on my bachelor's in Multidisciplinary Studies, I wrote my thesis on the Amish. I examined their written publications and the advertising, cultural references and code-switching within. I subscribed to Amish newspapers and read Amish journals. I've been both fascinated and disturbed by the Amish culture ever since. While I am romanced by their abandonment of technology, their slow-paced lives, their sense of community and their language, I find enforced ignorance almost... Despicable. They believe so strongly in life after death that they discount the value of the lives that they lead here on earth. I find this kind of thinking so incredibly flawed, and I won't go into explanatory details because it would be pages and pages long... But the simplicity. It's so attractive. How can I make comparisons without anything to compare things against? How can I be wooed by advertising if I don't see the advertisements? How can I understand if I don't have the information? How can I be jealous if I can't see the disparities between myself and others?

Would I rather not know, and not have a choice... Or to know, to grow, to evolve, and to transcend the choice, of my own volition?

When S came home, we lay on the floor and acted silly.

This is turning out to be a looooooong post, and my fingers are tired. More later? Perhaps tonight? Perhaps tomorrow?

P.S. - "Early the next business day" is actually read: 2:30 PM on the next business day.