Cemetery near Saratoga
I spent my first full day and night alone in my new house today. We are getting to know each other, sniffing around cautiously like two dogs who meet on the street. There’s a lot to find out about this new house of mine. It was built in 1925 or thereabouts and there are a lot of quirky parts to her.
There are pieces still left from when it was built, like an old coal bin in the basement, and built ins from the thirties and a telephone shelf where you can just imagine the old rotary black phone sat.
Thursday August 2nd was a very long day. I got up at 4 AM to drive down to Freeport and meet the movers at the storage facility so we could pack the U Haul and drive up to Cambridge where my house sat empty and waiting. I get to Freeport and Christina and her husband and helper had the truck almost packed and it was only nine thirty in the morning.
I picked up my little dog from the vet’s where she has been languishing for the last ten days, closed out my account at my old bank and get back to the storage facility where Christina and company were waiting, truck packed and ready.
A good omen. So we proceed to drive up to Cambridge and we get here, my visions of truck malfunction and my stuff strewn all over I 87 were thankfully unrealized.
And the three of them moved all my stuff, put the bed together, and put the air conditioners in the windows and left. And there I was. Alone in my house for the first night.
I started to unpack and realized how tired I was and went upstairs to make the bed and lie down. But I couldn’t. I was all keyed up and excited and Sally (my dog) was running around the house like a nut, so I went downstairs and started to unpack the kitchen, chanting to myself over and over, “one box at a time”. (Hi my name is Susan and I’m an obsessive organizer).
So I kept at it until I was falling down tired and even Sally was ready to call it a night and went upstairs and laid down. It felt great to sleep in my own bed again.
I laid awake listening to the night noises of my new home. Guess what? It’s beautifully quiet. I listened to the absence of man made noise and fell asleep to that. Not a bad thing.
Friday morning. Up at 530, shower, dress off to Stewart’s for a cup of coffee and a roll and start unpacking earnestly. High powered. The kitchen was the first goal, and it was slow going, but I plugged along, and the day flew by.
I had promised Jon and Maria to meet them at Bingo, so I quit at about 5, showered again and changed and sat on the sofa and…dozed off. I heard the text chime from Jon on my phone, I was late to Bingo, I jumped up, ran to the car, got to the Mansion in 3 minutes (small town, no traffic) ran in and took some good natured ribbing from Jon, sat between Joan and Alice to help them read their Bingo cards, realizing that I had forgotten my glasses which made reading kind of tough and promptly called a false Bingo on Alice’s card.
The game stopped, the other players cleared their cards, thinking the game was over when it really wasn’t and OY what a hullabaloo. Then I did it again on Joanie’s card. And I was supposed to be helping them. Looks like I was the one needing the help.
The games proceeded without incident from then on and Jon and Maria invited me to their house for dinner and I gratefully accepted so I followed them after stopping at home to pick up my glasses and cell phone, and I am driving up Rte 22 to the farm when a State Trooper pulls me over ‘cause I was going 65 in a 55. And guess where I was? In the driveway of Bedlam Farm.
Thinking that this was a bad dream, I get out of my car, meet the Trooper, who was very nice, asked me where I was going and I replied, “right here, Officer”, he told me to be careful and just let me off with a warning. Thank God.
So I go into the farmhouse, thinking what I strange confluence of events that has happened to me tonight in the space of two hours, but I wasn’t done yet. After a great meal and wonderful company, I got up to leave walked outside and slipped on the wet slate outside the door and promptly fell on my ass, breaking one of Maria’s clay pots. I was lucky though, I could’ve fallen on the cactus plants. A small favor life threw me.
This night then entered the realm of the surreal and I just had to laugh. I tend to take the long view when stuff like this happens to me because events of this nature are all too common in my everyday life.
But three mishaps is way above average even for me. There is no rhyme or reason. It’s just my life. And I’m living it, every mistake and mischance and misadventure.
And I’ll take the casualties and calamities. It’s just part of life’s rich pageant. And they make some pretty good stories.