Moving sucks. Moving when life is already busy sucks more. Moving when you are busy and your love is hospitalized 3 days before the move was unimaginable until it happened to me. Yes, the Hunter had an overnight in the hospital (dehydration plus undiagnosed high blood pressure equals hospital).
I had just spent a lovely weekend at my brilliant daughter’s graduation. My parents joined us and the celebration was wonderful. My Ex behaved and all was well. OK, he did crack a really awful joke about the Holocaust, which garnered a glare from the lovely Jewish family sitting in front of us, but that is par for the course with him. Yes, I was out of town the weekend before my move. A little extra pressure.
I arrived home on Monday and was ubering from the airport when I got two calls from the same unknown number. Since my cell is my only number for everything in my life, I ignored it. Then I get a text from the Hunter. “My boss is calling you. I’m headed to the hospital”. Holy shit. I immediately call his boss. The Hunter is headed to a hospital an hour away from me.
I jump in my car and head up to him against his weak protests. His cardiac enzymes were out of whack, his blood pressure was very high and he felt light-headed among other things. The hospital said “welcome – you will be staying overnight regardless. We need to monitor you.”
The Hunter isn’t a great patient. He has his own ideas on his medical care (who doesn’t), but he acquiesced. He was thankful that I was there to not only keep him company but to also be his liaison with the medical providers.
But I was frustrated by our move. The Hunter left it all to me. The movers, packing – it was all me. He went to work. I had little packed and it was a bit overwhelming and stressful plus exhausting. I felt a bit abandoned.
On Move Day, the Hunter went to work and left me to deal with it all. He showed up at our new home to drop off tip money and grab food for everyone. Then he went back to work for a late meeting. After the meeting, he calls me to say he’s headed back to our former stomping grounds so he can buy some pot. Seriously?! The only help I had was 4 movers (who were paid handsomely), Nino (Hunter’s son) for 2 hours and my son who only does exactly what is asked of him. My brilliant, sweet son is like a burro. He will work hard, but only when asked. Otherwise he is content to get back to his studies and videos. I feel like any help he provides is a generous gift. I’ll write more about our relationship in another post.
Anyway, I’m exhausted. I have worked my ass off. The Hunter packed 3 small boxes of his hunting gear and that was it. I was officially annoyed on Move Day. He gets home and is on Cloud 9, bouncing around the new house happy as a clam and horny as a toad. I want sleep and several Advil.
The next morning I am chatting with him on the phone because he had to work and I finally get to the root of his lack of help. He hates moving. He has moved do frequently that he hates it with a passion. Ok, but I need his help.
We talk about it. I explain what I need from him and he agreed and apologized. I used my words without holding in my growing resentment. I am proud of myself. He wants me happy. I just need to tell him what I need. He has stepped up and has been steadily helping with finishing up at the old place, a little unpacking, groceries and he bought me flowers to celebrate OUR new place. He had to work all weekend, but he did make two trips to our old place to bring up the rest of our things, including his canoe.
I’m good now. With him. Now my bitching is I have 3 nails that broke below the quick (ouch) and I have had to adjust virtually every kitchen shelf. What the hell? I haven’t looked for, thus haven’t found, my shoe box so I’ve been wearing the same smelly sneakers for 3 days. On Day One of the new house, I couldn’t make coffee with any of our 3 devices because either it was missing completely or a key component had been left behind. That has been resolved.
My new backyard is lovely and peaceful. I hear the birds, enjoy the green and my dog is thrilled to have a yard again. We have a garage again which I have missed. We have more space than we need and I am vowing that I will relish the open space and resist any urge to fill it. I accumulated more stuff than I thought in my post-marriage three year span. Shame on me. I must remember that stuff doesn’t make me happy, experiences do and this new backyard….