Frankenstorm and the Move

We’re here. After weeks of planning, paperwork, going-through-boxes-and-tossing, saying farewell to students and friends: we’re in Ohio.

Our furniture is delivered. I purchased a new sofa and chaise, washer and dryer, microwave, coffee maker–all the new things that I hopefully won’t have to buy again for another twenty years. My car is titled in Ohio. I see a new doctor on November 8. I love shopping with my sister-in-law. Only three boxes left to open and put away.

So, what’s the problem, you ask?

Frankenstorm. The Storm of the Century. The ‘other’ Perfect Storm. Destined to hit: Maryland.

Okay, look at the bright side. We’re here, Frankie’s there. Our belongings are safe. Well, some of them, anyway. But I’m visualizing the five or six boxes we left behind to bring back after Thanksgiving. The stuff we didn’t allow the movers to take because they meant so much we were afraid they were going to lose/destroy them. Pictures of the kids. Wood carvings from my great-grandfather. Knits my mother made while waiting up for me to get home from a date.

They’re stored in the basement of the old house. The basement that’s probably going to flood with the five to ten inches of rain forecasted. Ironic? Or fate?

Only time will tell. I’ll go worry some more now. And check the weather again.

 

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