My Poor Dog

It is done, the move is over. I can't fucking believe it. it's wonderful and yet i could care less. I am living among boxes again, but this time i can't find anything. The move was long in the beginning. Despite early injuries, neighbors and friends showed up, thank you Mateo, Jess and Forrest. We grab boxes, furniture and arranged the truck. It's a fine art trying to figure out where and how items can fit into a small space.

Once the truck was loaded and sandwiches were bought, it was time to go to the new place. I get the wonderful lifesaving phone call. From my Tae Kwon Do master. My friend Leslie announced in class that i was moving and needed help. Sir called me to tell me that he's bringing over the troops. I had 5 fresh, eager to help workers show up. I had NINJAS moving my shit up to the 4th floor! I ran off to get pizza to fill them when the truck was half empty and i come back to the truck practically empty. It was amazing. If I didn't have them, i would have been screwed. Now mind you, there still is a car with stuff still in it that my arms would not allow me to carry up. They still won't. So it will sit in there for a little bit.

As for my poor dog, he was locked in a room, watching people take the things he knew away box by box by bed. He sat in the old bedroom crying and crying. I had a pocket full of treats to show him that he was still loved. He comes into a new place where there are boxes and boxes and no room to walk. Nothing smells right, this isn't my home. Poor little guy. I had to hand feed him. He won't eat cause he is confused. He sits on the bed and looks at me saying- Mom, why? Poor little guy. Lots of unpacking was done yesterday, but no rugs down or free sofa. it'll be okay Bosco, i promise.