Friday: We were lucky enough to get into our new house a day before we had to vacate the old one. I spent the ENTIRE DAY cleaning every nook and cranny (construction dust -- ick), fixing leaky plumbing (freakin' plumbers) and generally loving every minute of being alone in our brand new, empty, totally awesome soon-to-be home.
Saturday: The movers arrived right on time (it's Portland, after all) and did a fantastic job loading everything we had packed. Emphasis on everything we had packed. For some reason I will never understand, I decided to save the kitchen for last so we wouldn't have to worry about packing everything carefully enough to withstand professionals handling it. We thought it made more sense to bring dishes, glasses, pots and pans, etc. in our cars and try not to hit any bumps. It's the "etc." that did me in, though. Long story short, I had finished packing leftover odds and ends upstairs and was just about done vacuuming when our buyer's realtor showed up. I had not even started on the kitchen, so imagine my reaction when he told me the new owner would be there in five minutes and they were having a party half an hour later. He helped me move everything from the kitchen to the garage and told me it would be cool if I just worked out there. As far as I'm concerned, he earned his commission then and there. But OH. MY. GOD. We have a LOT of stuff in our kitchen, some things I couldn't even put a name to. And all I had to work with were two big plastic bins and packing paper. I looked at the mountain of crap in the garage, called John (who was supervising the unloading at the new house) and said some things I'm not proud of. He showed up as the new owner was arriving and smoothed things over with her, then we spent HOURS haphazardly packing a ridiculous assortment of kitchen gadgets that we have no business even owning.
To make matters worse, there was still food in the fridge and a load of laundry in the dryer, so I had to join the party a few times to bag the food, clean beet juice from a produce bin (which looked like blood and totally freaked out a few guests, I think), and check on my clothes. Here's the beauty part, though: everyone was so nice. One man heard me mutter something about how I could use a snort of Jameson, and the next thing I knew I had a whiskey in my hand that tasted like Jameson but is apparently made in Pendleton. When I ventured inside, the new owner and her friends chatted with me about the house and what a great job we'd done with it, among other things. And one woman alerted me that I'd missed a drawer of stuff in the bathroom -- my glasses, contacts, toothbrush and toothpaste -- stuff I'd actually miss really soon. We ended the night hugging Barbara, the new owner, and having our picture taken together.
Grace spent the day with Julian and his parents, Justine and Steve. They went to the park, napped together (Grace and Julian) and when I called Justine to let her know we were finished, Grace was sound asleep for the night. Her first sleep over -- with a boy.
How cute are they?