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Manic Monday

Naturally, it was too much to expect that Dad's move should go without a hitch. After I spent all weekend crating and boxing up his belongings, packing his suitcases and labelling all the items too big to fit in either crate, box or suitcase to show that they should be moved too, and speaking to the staff and move coordinator to please make sure none of his stuff got left behind, what should I find to have been delivered to his new address this afternoon? Exactly. About half his furniture, plus some that's somebody else's, and some broken crockery to boot. The removal men weren't willing to take back what doesn't belong to my father and return with the things that do on my say-so alone, the move coordinator wasn't picking up her phone, and now I've got to try and sort it all out tomorrow.

The staff at the new home are wonderful, though. It was getting towards dusk when I realised there was no light except for the broken table lamp that I'd earmarked for the tip (the one item in his old room that I'd deliberately not labelled). I mentioned this to a member of staff, and hey presto! a lamp was magicked from somewhere, so Dad doesn't have to forego his usual bit of reading before he goes to bed tonight.

In other news, Mum's surgery has been pushed back to tomorrow morning. Thinking this meant she was supposed to go home again, Mum left the hospital this afternoon. The nurse's station rang half an hour ago, asking if I had any idea where she might be. "At home, in bed", I said, "she has an early day tomorrow...do you want me to wake her and deliver her to the ward tonight, then?" Luckily, they answered that wouldn't be necessary, as long as I could make sure she reports back in no later than 7 a.m. Which in practical terms means I have to get up at 5 a.m., so that I can cycle over to hers and be there no later than 5:45, let myself in, wake her up (hopefully without scaring the sh*t out of her) and shoo her out the door and into a taxi before 6:30, and then she might just make it. Because you see, Mum has a habit of disconnecting the phone when she wants an early night...

Comments

( 3 Speak Like A Child — Shout To The Top )
curiouswombat
Aug. 25th, 2008 10:42 pm (UTC)
Oh dear - have a better tomorrow, and I hope your Mum's surgery goes really well.
enigmaticblues
Aug. 26th, 2008 05:08 pm (UTC)
*hugs*
__kali__
Aug. 26th, 2008 05:16 pm (UTC)
Oh dear, nothing is ever simple is it?
( 3 Speak Like A Child — Shout To The Top )

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