My erstwhile roommate, Mermaid, asked if she and her husband and daughter could stay at my place the last week of June and the first week of July, for they were moving to Australia for some sort of school thing; since they'd said they had a storage locker all set up, I said sure, fine. What I wasn't expecting was that they'd be moving boxes not directly to the locker but into my living room, or that they'd try to keep anything but the essentials in the house. Seeing that in (my spare, their temporary) bedroom they'd set up bookshelves, their TV, VCR, two beds, etc, was a surprise. So was the invasion of kitchen gadgets. And the filling of my refrigerator and pantry with food. And the mostly-empty garage becoming rather non-empty.
Boxes of stuff I can deal with, albeit not as gracefully as I'd like. Mermaid feeling the need to go through every single box, looking for stuff (what, I'm not sure), having a yard sale and not cleaning up afterwards (getting me politely yelled at the next morning by the landlord, and having to hurriedly pull stuff off the front lawn)... those things are rather more stressful for me, especially when the boxes have an ominous habit of not moving (i.e. not disappearing to the storage locker). Similarly, the obvious friction between wife and husband whereupon they clash about how to do things (Mermaid dictating that things shall proceed apace thusly, Rob demurring unhappily) was also quite the emotional albatross.
I celebrated the fourth by BBQing, watching fireworks, and mostly staying the hell away from the house; they did by U-Hauling, although it was kinda difficult to tell what got moved. Thursday, all hell finally broke loose; Mermaid relented, and Rob finally got to move boxes unhindered and purge all sorts of crap. This continued on 'til Friday, where they decided that Mermaid would depart avec enfant to LAX (did I mention they were flying out of LA rather than San Jose or San Francisco or elsewhere within a hundred miles?) that evening, while Rob would stay behind, sleep a few hours, and continue the next morning at 6, when the storage facility opened again, they having a nasty habit of shutting their doors at 10PM nightly.
Saturday, I woke up early (my sleep schedule having been utterly shot since late June), and helped Rob move stuff to the locker. With many heartfelt apologies, he departed around 1PM to try and make it down to LA to catch his 10PM flight to the land of oz. I went back to bed, relieved that the people were gone - but oh so much shit remains. The driveway is still full of crap, the garbage cans filled to overflowing; the kitchen is full of dirty dishes and food I'd never eat, fast food cups littering the counters. Boxes of stuff still remain in my living room and the spare bedroom (although thankfully, nowhere near as many as I'd feared). I still dread going home, which is why I'm writing this from the air conditioned climes of the offices; once I load up on trash bags and figure out where I can dump everything (cacheing them in the garage meanwhile), I'll be much, much happier. I expect in a few days I'll have recovered enough to finally shudder or sob or whatever; right now I'm mostly kind of numb.
Anyhow, if I've been particularly absent, stressed-looking, or generally inaccessible, that's why.