...to be a raving lunatic

...well not really.

I don't think anyone really wakes up in the morning and says, "Today is the day I want to be considered especially foolish".

Some other equally as unflattering terms to describe my antics today might include:

madwoman. imbecile. psychopath. psychotic. fool. idiot. eccentric. informal loony. nut. nutcase. head case. psycho. moron. screwball. crackpot. fruitcake. fruit loop. loon.


I especially like the term 'informal loony'.  What is this?


I think maybe if you google one or maybe even all of these terms today you might indeed find footage on Youtube of my outburst with my movers this morning.  And while this might be the kind of outburst a sailor might be proud of...I am sorry that I allowed the movers to get to me.


To me:  The move is stressful for sure.  The timing is short.  The circumstances unfortunate.  The loneliness empty.  The sadness too much to bare.  The responsibility too much for my shoulders.  


And probably the comment that really set me off was that 'they understood'.


Really??


The details that lead up to this are as common in a move to me as any of my friends might experience.  A bunch of workers come in to pack and move the goods of my home.  They rummage through my things (violating), toss it into boxes, throw it on a truck, and never cross my path again.  The item may or MAY NOT make it to my new home and if it does, it is just as likely to have parts missing and be broken or damaged.  Has anyone seen my headboard?


I have learned many lessons over the years (and this is NOT my first rodeo in fact it is my 13th) and a few of them are:

• give my expectations up front
• be respectful, kind and smile often
• offer the movers drinks
• and joke about how much junk I really do have.
• it does not help to buy/provide them with lunch
• it does not help to have my things organized before they come (pieces will still be missing on the other end)
• they will leave trash throughout my house (soda bottles, tape rolls, cellophane)
• that my stuff is just stuff.  It is replaceable (now at full replacement value).

Despite all of these lessons, I am disappointed every time.  And today...they pushed the wrong button.  


Crazy momma bear informal loony lady came screeching out (Isabella thought this was funny).


The details are silly.  The incidents just added up over the three days.  But the final straw was: I wanted to check the inventory on our high value items.  Because as all military families know, "if it ain't on the inventory...it didn't exist."  


I have recovered.  They did too.  They learned this is my home.  My stuff.  And they work for me.  But it didn't have to get ugly.  But at the end of this day...they worked steadily, quietly, and asked me, if I was happy.


Maybe now I will be called lengendary...