The road is opened! In the background my nearest neighbors. Did you know that here in Norway, the traditional unit for measuring the distance between neighbors is in stone throws?

Two updates in one day! It is a breach of tradition, and that on a Sunday. But what can I say, since it is slice of life and it happened today.

We brought the last van-full of stuff from the Fortress of Solitude to Riverview. I cannot find a couple small things from the kitchen, and there is a small bag that should have been in the garbage, but overall the move has been a rousing success.

The big thing today was the washing machine. Well, the commode was about the same volume but not nearly as heavy. The weight of the thing was horrifying. Why don’t they come with wheels, or at the very least handles? Are they all delivered by Superman? I feared for my life and that of my companion, truth be told. And indeed, when I dragged the thing into the new house, I felt a sudden headache (on the right side, near the temple); but it has faded and I am still alive some hours later, so I guess I did not burst any blood vessels. Still, this is far outside my normal range of intense activity. I am more of a slow-moving person. (I started to write slow-mowing, which is also true.)

The washing machine is now in place, but some small piece is lost so it leaks a bit at the water intake. I will have to get that part replaced, or perhaps the whole tube. But at least not the whole machine. If I have any say in it, I won’t touch it again for the next five years, and even then I better think of something if I’m still around. Right now I’m just glad I am still around NOW.

And it could have been worse. Yesterday and today we had to carry everything from the car to the house, or at worst drag it on a broad, flat two handed snow shovel (the English name of these implements is still unknown to me). But, eerily prescient, my friend wanted to carry in all the other stuff before the washing machine. I would have taken it first while we still had more energy, such as it was. But luckily I said nothing. When we had carried in the last of the smaller things, a guy on tractor came. He said my landlord had asked him to clear the road to the house. So we waited while he cleared the road, then drove the car nearly to the door, and took the washing machine from there, quite possibly saving my life. (We shall have to see whether it worked over the next days.)

So, better late than never. I now have a clear road and nowhere to go. Well, I could take a walk. But the north wind has picked up and the cold is pretty bad. Just keeping the house warm enough to not need outerwear is enough for now. Outside in the wind… no thanks, not today.

Tomorrow begins my new life, if any. Bet the bus drivers will be surprised to see me wait at 8 in the morning instead of 20:25 in the night. But the bus back should be the same. Well, in the long run. Tomorrow I intend to go back to the Fortress and wash down the first time. I may do this once or twice more, before sending in a professional cleaning firm to finish it. Or that’s the plan. But I am never going “home” again.

This sea of crates and bags is my home now. The bed I am a little afraid of sleeping in is my home now. The bedroom without wardrobe cabinets is my home now. The steep stairs whenever I go to the bedroom or the storage room is my home now. The thin gap between the wall and the floor that I had to put a rag in to stop the wind blowing in on my feet is my home now. … It really feels like home. Except there are not bookshelves all over the walls filled with books. I guess you can’t win them all!

One funny side effect of the two days of moving is that I was ravenously hungry both evenings. Hard work and little time to eat earlier in the day seems to have made my stomach bigger… My body seems to have forgotten that I have 20 pounds of non-essential fat, enough to tide me through weeks of under-eating. Oh well. Food tastes good. I should eat it while I am alive, as long as it does not stop me from continuing to be alive.  And at least in the short run, I think washing machines are more dangerous.