I spent last week getting my Mom successfully moved out of the Tin Can Retirement Village. Her place hasn't sold, but she needed to make another trip to MA and decided not to come back...ever.
My youngest brother came down from MA to help me. It was a win-win situation. He helped me ship the last seven boxes and in return got to escape the 32 inches of snow in his front yard. I took him to the Red Sox Spring Training park but we were a day too early to see any action.
When Mom decided not to spend winters in Florida anymore, she asked me to pack "a few personal things" to ship home. She bought the place furnished and all the kitchen stuff came with the house, so she was leaving all that behind. Mom is NOT a hoarder, her house always looks like the cleaning lady just left. But REALLY, MOM? 22 BOXES?? The last two boxes were each big enough to pack a dishwasher and weighed 100 pounds each. My brother was filling them with (I shit you not) beach chairs and lawn statues. If I had been the least bit amused I would have taken photos. I'm sure the local UPS store was happy to make an extra $700 last week.
I dropped them off at the airport, a little worried that I won't be checking up on her every 4 weeks. I'll having to start planning trips to MA...but she has been warned that I may refuse to come up there between October and May.
No sooner did I pull out of the airport and heave a (sort of guilty) sigh of relief that I won't be making the 4 hour drive to South Florida anymore, than I came down with the nasty virus that Mom has been coughing all over me for a week. My ears are clogged, I have a headache and my throat feels like I've been swallowing gasoline.
I'll be hibernating in bed with a few books until this passes.