moving in

I wrote most of this late on Saturday night, but just posting it now.

We checked out of the hotel at 10:30 this morning, and got to the house around noon after stopping for groceries.

Amanda is into dressing me again. She had me change out of the white stretchy top, as that would get dirty in a heartbeat of unpacking. She put me into a loose denim skirt and a plaid flannel shirt. She stood before me and tied the shirttail into a tight bow, cinching it at my waist, leaving the panels of the shirt wide open in front, barely covering my breasts.

“There are buttons, you know,” I said. “Just a little tip: some people, like, use buttons to close the shirt in front.”

“You’re being a smartass,” she replied.

And with that we commenced our afternoon of unpacking the trailer, which seemed to have gotten larger since we left home. There were a gazillion boxes — that’s a real number, I believe — but we somehow got them into the house, steering them somewhat successfully into the right rooms, thanks to my handy-dandy labeling system.

We still had clothes in the trailer when the first furniture delivery came — the new bedroom sets. I directed traffic for the furniture delivery men, pointing them to the proper bedrooms, all the while looking like a porn version of Ellie May Clampett from the Beverly Hillbillies. Of course, this was Amanda’s intention in dressing me, knowing that delivery men were going to be an audience. Already she is sharing me with this brave new world.

It all worked out well. After the bedroom delivery, we had time to finish unloading the clothing portion of the trailer haul — the rolling racks and storage bins — before the second delivery showed up. This was with a few pieces of living room furniture, a sofa and a couple of chairs.

They left, we shut the door, and we collapsed onto our new sofa. We hadn’t opened a single box yet, but everything was in the house, we had beds to sleep in, places to sit, and a coffeemaker in the kitchen for morning joe.

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Amanda had started the day with an order, that wherever we were in unpacking boxes at 9:00 tonight, we would stop, both her and me, and save the rest for tomorrow. And so it was. She blew an imaginary whistle and we stopped.

She’s in the shower at the moment. I’m sitting in one our new chairs writing this. My day has ended the way it started. Writing.

I’m exhausted, but happy. It’s been a good day.