My boys came.  They moved every one of the boxes.  Some of the faucets have been installed.  The granite has been finished and tweaked in four rooms.  There are new toilets.  Everything works except the air conditioner.  It needs freon and clean coils.  The dishwasher, oven and top burner need to be installed and I think that's it.

I will line the pantry shelves with paper and move all my pantry stuff in today.  I don't know why I line everything with paper.  Probably from the military days when I didn't want to leave dirty shelves for the next occupant.  When I moved, I could trash the paper and the shelves would be pristine-- without being wiped down.  You always had to pass an inspection in the military.  I always passed.

I bet all of you readers are as sick of this move as I am.  I have nothing else on my mind to share.  My creative efforts are kaput.  I am kaput as well.  It will soon be done.

As if I wasn't already overwhelmed, I was trying to find a piece for the bath that the plumber wanted, drove 15 miles to get it and smoke and fumes started pouring from the hood of my car.  I was next to Pep Boys, but didn't have a way home.  Becky was working, Pat was in California, Ann didn't answer her phone, her husband Dave just got out of the hospital and all of my neighbors were out of town.  I left the car there, called my grand daughter who just moved here to come get me.  She works out of town and was on her way home.  Thank God.

Who knows what is wrong with my car.  It doesn't look good.  They are supposed to call me.  I see dollar signs--or junking my dependable old 1999 Town car.  I sure don't want to do that.  I'll leave it in the hands of God, I already have my plate too full to think about it.

Scott just texted me that he is going to stay all day Saturday and Sunday as well.  Hallelujah.  I need a set of shoulders to lean on right about now.  I've been calling Carolyn twice a day for emotional support, and to whine.  She's the only person who will listen to me when I am in that condition.  I never whine, and she knows that.  She keeps telling me that I am going to make it--and makes me believe it.  I do see light at the end of the tunnel, I just hope it isn't an oncoming train.