"Your dad should be there around 3," she offered.
"But..." I trailed off and looked across my living room at Friend. "Today?"
"He left at 7," Mom reported, sounding cheerful as she focused on her life rather than mine. "I asked when he was coming back and he said, 'Like you'd care.' And he did pack a whole suitcase full of clothes. So he might not be back for days! It'll be so relaxing and wonderful," she sighed with pleasure. "He was in kind of a bad mood and he said he hadn't called you because you said he could come whenever. So he's on his way!"
"But..." I said again. "I said late this week. Or this weekend. Not '24 hours after I left!' I just got home - it's a mess and the lawn isn't mowed and Friend is here and I was going to work today! I'm not ready."
"Yeah," Mom said, not unsympathetic to my plight. "Try to pick up a little and hope for the best. Because he'll be there this afternoon!" Friend, laughing in her corner of the couch, didn't seem overly supportive either so I sighed and said that was fine.
"I'll get them," Friend said later that afternoon. I convinced her that we both should drive and I should return home alone. Dad likes people about as much as I do and the addition of Friend - while lovely for me - would make him tense, I think. Then he might yell and she'd yell back and I can't handle that. Plus, he amuses her with some of his more outrageous statements and I feel badly for him when she laughs and he looks confused.
Anyway, she handed me the stack of boxes after she descended a few steps. I'd parked illegally near her building and was acquiring the boxes she obtained earlier in the day. "No more steps," she offered as I took the folded pieces of cardboard from her.
"Oh!" I cried over my shoulder when I understood. "Because I fall down! Right - now I get it!"
"Congratulations," she offered dryly and I grinned at her while we tucked packing materials in the car. I waved after she wished me luck and offered again to help (and deflect criticism) should I need it.
"I'll be fine," I assured her and headed home. I quickly swept the stray grass clippings off my driveway. I parked outside so Dad's car could go in the garage. I frantically picked trash off my floor and shrugged at the lingering clutter. I winced at the back yard, knowing I'd be firmly scolded.
"That guy is some supreme being," Dad commented as we sat at the table this evening. I glanced at him inquisitively, wondering what he was talking about. He'd arrived, commented with great disappointment on the lawn and said there wasn't all that much to do to prepare the house to go on the market. He killed a mosquito when I yelped and refused to do it myself (I hate when I think a bug is dead and go to remove it and is moves!) and settled on the couch. When he said he hadn't eaten (though I specifically told him during a phone call that I didn't have food and he should stop on the way), I jumped at the chance to go fetch beer and pizza.
"What?" I finally said of his supreme being statement.
"He's like a leader of something," Dad explained. "He summoned someone."
"Oh, on Charmed?" I asked of the show I watch about the witches and warlocks. "I thought you were talking about the neighbor!"
"No, TV," he said and paused to have a bit of salad. "She married him but he's bad. Evil," he corrected himself, having clearly watched the program while I was gone. "Is she going to get pregnant?"
I nodded and swallowed my bite of pizza before explaining. "She turns evil too - just for a few episodes. They she does get pregnant - the baby's all evil too. So the the witches kill the husband and the baby... Well, remember that woman who showed up late to the wedding? I told you she was the evil psychic lady? Well, she magically takes the baby from the wife witch into her own womb, but he's too powerful and he kills her. And himself."
"Wow," Dad said and I paused for a moment before starting to giggle. So though I expected this would be stressful and hard, it's actually been rather easy and relaxed. He's currently napping on the couch while the TV is on too loudly. I've clipped back the sheflara - it was just too big to move and it'll grow back once we get settled up north. I packed two 20 gallon tubs with books (tip of the iceberg) and have started to sort clothing into piles. I fixed the blinds Sprout broke (Friend taught me when she moved and now I'm awesome at it.) and packed up all his toys (and continue to do so as I find stashes he's hidden).
I'm making progress.
And while it would have been nice to control the timing a bit more, it'll all work out. Stuff will go into boxes and get cleaned and fixed. I'll occasionally freak out that too much is changing and somehow things will get done. I don't feel ready. I suppose it's good that it doesn't seem to matter.