what a day it was, it was what a day

We helped Daughter 2 move into her new apartment on Saturday. At times I felt like I was held captive by an alien species never before identified by man nor woman. I was instructed to wait at our house until the removalists came by and picked up all the items she wanted from our house. Once they left I was to text her and let her know that they were on their way to her old place to pick up the boxes there.

I handled that okay, but then it was to be action stations and we were all to jump in various cars and make our way to the new apartment to await further instructions. I was ready… I was too scared not to be. However her various siblings thought otherwise. Daughter 1 thought it was the day to sort out her taxes with her accountant which were to have been filed June 30^th and so disappeared. Son, well Son was asleep in his cryogenic chamber and despite my escalating hysteria refused to gather the momentum, or interest that I was trying to instil into him from his doorway. Eventually Daughter 1 returned and so we left, but not before I gathered a ratchet and waved it at Son from his doorway and distinctly stated “I am taking this ratchet, you bring the other tools that you need to put together the desk and beds.” I said it twice just to make sure I got the message across.

If you are wondering why I chose the ratchet as my weapon of choice, it is very simple – it was lying in the middle of the living room floor, which is where all good ratchets go to lie.

Daughter 1 and I raced to the new apartment – and we were there before either Daughter 2, or the moving men arrived.. We sat in the afternoon heat thanking the Big Whatever that we had slipped under the radar.

Daughter 2 arrived. We all went upstairs and waited. The van was right behind her…and we waited and we waited . They had to go three streets from old to new apartment. Over 20 minutes later they arrived. I leaned from the balcony going “yoooohooo, here! Yooooohooo, hoy” in my best motherly fashion to attract the moving men and to halt their wandering up and down the street looking for the right number. They recognised the weird woman in the neck collar from their first pickup and so pulled in

About this time Mr FD phones and says that there is yet another severe weather warning and to take cover. Daughter2’s new apartment has only a single garage. Mother Flamingo Dancer has a brilliant stroke of genius, yet again, and I send Daughter 1 over to the old apartment to sit in the double garage there. I also intercepted Son and told him to go there also. We sit out the storm…

Daughter 2 then goes and collects her siblings so their cars can stay under cover and we all set too. Son asks for the tools. I show him the ratchet. He did not bring over any others…He has a desk, two beds and a flat screen television to assemble.

Mother Flamingo to the fore once more as she remembers giving Daughter 2 a little floral hammer that is a handy little tool that is in fact 5 different tools in one. Daughter 2 locates and hands it to her brother who sets to the task with a screw driver not much longer than his thumb nail. He had the good sense not to complain however.

Incapacitated as I was, and having already contributed so much brain power, I was given the momentous task of washing the dishes and cutlery as they were unpacked. Daughter 1 is obviously more trust worthy than I and was allowed to actually place the clean items in the kitchen cupboards. She was also allowed to make up Daughter2’s bed so that D2 could fall into it that night.

Daughter 1 said to her sister that she need to leave about 5pm. Her sister apparently looked like she was going to rip her sister’s throat out at any moment, but agreed she could, but also apparently hissed “but not Mum”. Daughter 1, bless her, slipped into a corner and warned me that I was under threat of death, so I made a big show of waving off Daughter 1 and giving Son redundant advice on assembling the television with his thumb nail size screw driver.

We were allowed out of our cell a little after 6pm. Ah the sweet smell of freedom. We had survived, thank God Almighty, we had survived!

Her lease is up in 6 months