Yesterday, we moved everything.
Today, we we're paying for everything.
Though, in truth, the retribution started last night when creaky joints made themselves known with every step.
Heather really had it bad. A foot that she broke many years ago (under Marcia Gay Harden's garage door) gave her sharp stabs on the stairs and she fidgeted all night in the bed.
Me, I had neck problems that made me look more like Lurch from the Addams Family than usual.
It wasn't supposed to be this way. The plan was to hire two guys from Medford to drag our boxes to the Mini-Storage place. But they never called us back and so we had to do it ourselves.
Still, after a year and a half apart, and a month of taping up and shipping boxes alone in Manhattan, it was good to do a part of this moving thing together. And to be in pain for it together as well.
Someday, I'll have enough money to get someone else to pick up my boxes and take them to wherever I'm living.
Until then, it's all the Asprin I can afford.
PS. Any suggestions for straightening out a bad neck and back are much appreciated.
Here's a Youtube video of us in the not-so-long-ago bi-coastal days. Girl