The Saga of the Move: Part 4, or “The Pre/sequels We All Drank Enough to Forget”


(Parts One, Two, and Three.)

The worst of this move is over, thankfully. Moving out of a place is a lot harder than moving into. (Also I think there could be a sexual innuendo in that sentence, but I’m too tired to make it work. Feel free to give it a try in the comments.)

As soon as I got off the ferry I drove to Pirates and Fairies on Lake Sasamat. I arrived just as the sun was setting, which was around 8 p.m. I’d missed three meals out of eight of the weekend, as well as my big chance to actually make an announcement about selling my books. I ended up selling exactly zero copies of Bellica or glasstown, which did not help my already pretty sour mood. Missing half of an event I look forward to all year sucks lizard eggs.

I was very tired. So tired I spent most of my time sleeping, eating, and frakking (and not as much of that part as usual; that’s how tired I was). I didn’t even feel like dressing up, and that’s one of the parts I look forward to the most — running around in costume screaming “ARRRR I BE GLITTERTITS MCGEE! PREPARE TA BE BOARDED UNF UNF UNF.”

But, you know, it was good. It was a time away from the stress, as much as I can get away from something that follows me like a Time Beetle on my back. It was also lovely because my boyfriend is lovely, and madly in love with me. He saved bacon from Saturday morning for me in the cooler in his cabin. ALL DAY. And he saved me dinner, because he knows how much I love pulled pork. So when I arrived, I got to stuff my face with meaty goodness that symbolized his deep and abiding love for my crazy ass. That’s a pretty awesome thing to arrive to, especially when you’re an emotional eater. Eating food to symbolize love when that food actually does symbolize real love? Way cheaper than therapy.

After Pirates and Fairies I went and stayed at his place for four days, after coming by the apartment to spend some time with mom and Tyee. We watched Doctor Who and it was awesome, though Tyee continued to look at us as if we were crazy. When I left, Tyee sulked, because a) I was leaving and b) I was leaving to go see my boyfriend, and Tyee knew it. The dog is still not used to Ogre — Tyee’s a rescue and has issues with really big dudes, and Ogre is a living mountain with hands the size of lunchboxes. Ogre makes a sudden movement and Tyee pees himself. This is…sort of sadly hilarious when you realize that if Tyee jumps up and puts his front paws on Ogre’s shoulders, they’re the same height — and Ogre is six and a half feet tall.

Anyway, I had to get back to the apartment by Friday so I could be there for the washer and dryer guys from the Brick. I figure, sure, I can do that, no problem. And it wasn’t a problem getting back. Not really. Except that Ogre works a late shift and so while I was vegging out at his place, I sort of…shifted to his schedule and started sleeping till four in the afternoon. (He actually gets up earlier than that, but I sleep like the dead.) So on Thursday night I decided to get to sleep for a few hours before he arrived home, and told him via text to wake me up when he was ready to watch some True Blood (I am strangely fascinated with the lives of these incredibly tropey characters, even if one of the gods I worship sort of takes a massive PR beating in Season 2). I was planning on just staying up after we’d finished watching a few episodes and just driving home.

This would have worked fine if my body had let me sleep. I was tired enough to sleep but my body is a jerk and doesn’t always like to, you know, do stuff I want it to.

“Hey, body, can you stop hurting?”


“Hey, body, can I sleep now?”


“Hey, body, could I get a regular menstrual cycle?”


So I dozed, slightly, but basically didn’t get any sleep at all. I drove home incredibly tired, got lost and had to u-turn and ended up taking the Port Mann twice which I really have to stop doing if I want to avoid tolls in the near future (it’s happened to me about six or seven times in the past month; driving in the GVRD is fucked up).  The message from the Brick on the answering machine said they’d be there between 9 and 11 am, and it was about 7:30 when I got home.

I sat on the couch and called my mom and we chatted. I remember hanging up and thinking “I should get up and do some stuff around the house,” and then the next thing I knew it was noon and I was waking up from some fucked up dreams. I don’t even remember lying down, but I woke up in that position on the couch. And the Brick guys had called at about ten after nine.

I said screw it and crawled into my actual bed, where I slept until 5pm. I had to call the Brick again after I woke up to arrange for them to come again, and it had to wait until the next Friday because I was going to be in Nanaimo again from Saturday to Thursday.

Meanwhile, my massive laundry pile grew. Like something that evolved out of the depths of a swamp, it grew and grew and grew until it took over my entire apartment and I suffocated.

I may be exaggerating. But the pile is still growing. Do you know why?

The guys arrived last Friday (the 14th) to finish the job. They stacked the washer and dryer, so there is now room again in my living room and I no longer feel guilty about not serving an appliance dinner. While stacking the washer and dryer, they said “So, do you have a vent kit for the dryer?”

“Uhhhhh. No? Whatever you see there is what we have.”

Yeah, they didn’t sell us a vent kit with the dryer. Apparently it was assumed we had one. The stacking/delivery/hooking up guys were pretty frustrated with that as well, as it’s something they apparently constantly tell the sales people: “Ask people if they need a vent kit!” Because, you know, the average person is not going to think about that.

Or maybe the average person is going to think about that; I’m not sure, as I’m pretty sure I’m not average.  Point being, we didn’t think about it, and apparently other people don’t either, and now we had a washer and a dryer and no vent kit which means…no way to hook up the dryer. (Well, ok, we could have hooked it up and used it, but then lint would have been sprayed all over the house and it is hard enough to keep this place clean, let me tell you.)

Or the washer, it turns out! Because the hoses, which came in a package, were missing a clamp. Some vital piece of metal was not put in the package with them.

Hello, solid wall. I believe you already know my forehead? I think it’s time you two got re-acquainted. I think you’ll be great friends.

I went to my boyfriend’s place that night, mainly so I could steal the use of his washer and dryer. (And, yeah, True Blood and cuddles were also on the menu. We watched all of Season 3 in two days.) Managed to about halve the pile as it was on Friday, but then I spent this weekend actually unpacking clothing and some were musty enough from being in various suitcases for weeks that they need another wash. So the pile is back to the size it was before I did any wash.

The washer and dryer guys are coming again at the end of next week — either the 27th or the 28th, probably the 28th. I’m hoping this will be the end of it. If this particular clusterfuck gets resolved by then, it will have been over a month getting a new washer and dryer hooked up and working, when it should have happened before I even got here.

I swear to gods, every single planet is retrograde for me.

There are a few remaining clusterfucks in this saga, but they don’t really warrant an entire post to themselves. Basically, a ton of my stuff is still in my friends’ carport in Nanaimo, and I have to make several car trips to get it out of there as soon as possible, because winter’s coming and carports are not sealed against the elements. Also, don’t want to overstay my stuff’s welcome. They do actually need their carport for stuff.

I’m also struggling to unload my car every time I fill it, which takes me a while because…yeah, you know the story. I don’t have to rehash it. LIFTING STUFF HURTS BECAUSE I AM A CRIPPLE. Also I can’t open jars anymore. I think my muscles atrophied during my narcotics coma this year.

By the time you read this I will already have gone over to Nanaimo again, taken my grad photos, driven up to Courtenay to grab stuff out of TG’s broken truck (yes the truck is still in Courtenay being fixed ye gods and little fishies) and caught a ferry to Powell River. Now it’s unpack-stuff-and-put-into-storage and doctor’s-appointment time. Then I rush back down to Vancouver so I can take my mom’s car in to get the odometer fixed or something, I wasn’t really listening, and wait around for the washer and dryer guys from the Brick to give me working laundry.

Oh, yeah, and I have to somehow work a million+ hours in the next few weeks so I can make ends meet and pay my rent and stuff.

This being an adult thing. I do not like it. I would like to return it, please.

That’s the story. That’s the saga of my move. I really hope it’s over now, at the end of these four posts, just as I only acknowledge 4 Star Wars movies. (The original Trilogy and Revenge of the Sith, because I think he gets points for trying.)

I am now turning my attention to writing, publishing, and trying to write posts for this blog regularly. I don’t promise anything on that last front, but The Jade Star of Athering should be out in…March. Let’s say March. I had to push the release date by a lot because of this move, so I’m not cementing any dates yet because all my planets are retrograde.

Have a lovely weekend, and hopefully I’ll see y’all on Monday.