Exploded Clown

Sonja (my Wife) is in Hawaii this week on a mission trip with the church youth group that she helps out with. They’re on Molokai– where 80% of the population lives under the poverty line– painting churches and installing running water.

Sonja returns Sunday night. I’m leaving for Colorado Monday morning and don’t get back until late Wednesday. We’re moving into a new apartment starting Saturday. We planned this well.

Actually, it’s not as bad as that seems (The moving, that is: the missing my wife still sucks). The place we’re moving into had a deal going on where they cut $150/mo off of our rent for the 12 months of the lease if we moved in during April, which was a month earlier than we had initially wanted to move. But because of the deal, we actually pay less over the 13 months than if we would have waited for a month and moved in in May. So we have a month to move, which is kind of nice but kind of dangerous. I can see us moving almost everything, and “getting to the rest of it later,” only to have “later” become the final hours of our current lease.

So what I’ve been doing today (aside from fiddling with WordPress and typing these entries) is a little bit of pre-packing. I’ve boxed up an entire bookshelf of books as well as some extra bedding and a few of the kitchen supplies we never use, thus guaranteeing that we will need to reference each of those books, cushion ourselves with extra pillows, and blend things.

Sonja doesn’t know I’ve done any of this. This will hopefully be an “oh-you’re a wonderful husband” moment but could turn out to be a “why did you start the fun without me” thing. I’ll try to convince her that istwasn’t all that fun.

A more surefire OYAWHM is the fact that I’ve taken the drudgery upon myself and called the gas, electric, and U-Haul people and taken care of all of that.

So come Saturday, we can move in to the new place and drop all the heavy book boxes on the lighter pillow boxes, plug in the blender and have a nice drink.