I am completely exhausted, my legs hurt—but it’s done. We managed to move our friend from her deathtrap apartment to her clean, nice, safe, quiet apartment. It took days, but Stanley, her son-in-law, and I got her moved. It would’ve been a lot easier and faster if her granddaughters had shown up to help at least a bit, but they were nowhere to be seen. Allegedly they will help her unpack, according to their father. I hope so.
One thing this whole process has done is convince me that I am not nuts—I want to cull and declutter this house now, even if moving is a long time in the future if at all. We have too much stuff. It’s oppressing me, overwhelming me. If we had to move fast, for whatever reason, we couldn’t. And that scares me.