The Beast with Two Backs

Let's just say it's a good thing that WWIII didn't start during any of my shifts in the ICBM Launch Control Center when it was my turn to sleep.

My mini-me delivery-o' crap from Dayton was supposed to be delivered Monday "evening" (after the driver called Saturday wanting to drop it off on Father's Day and I politely told him not so much) so I called the driver around 3 to get an estimated time of arrival.
"Hello?"
"Is this the Covain driver?"
"Yeah."
"This is Major Gottrich, trying to get status of my delivery?"
"We're still doing another order."
"... so..."
"I'll. let. you. know."
Nice.
But after Ainsley, Ryan and I watched a terrific thunderstorm from the comfort of our front porch swing, I called the driver for status around 7:30.
"Hello?'
"Hey, it's Major Gottrich again."
"...yeah?"
Oh just GUESS what I want. Take a SECOND and GUESS what I could POSSIBLY want.
"Trying to get status on my delivery?"
"It'll be tomorrow morning."
"What happened to this evening?"
"Look, it's not my fault, we were deLAYed and I SAID we could deliver it YESterday and *inaudible* at my own expense and *inaudible* and there's nuttin I can do..."

I pointed out that he had actually told me he was going to let me know and yet here I was having to call and find out he wasn't coming that night, but that's fine, I'm breezy, could they please come first thing in the morning, my wife and I have an appointment on base at 2pm.
"We'll see what we can do."

So after getting up twice in the middle of the night to settle Ryan (probably a fourth of the number of times Ainsley did), and having a real cool dream about me getting a confession from a septuagenarian arsonist until she bolted and lost me in the hospital cafeteria, Ainsley came into the bedroom at 7:30am calling my name authoritatively, as in Get Up Now, not Good Morning Sunshine.

"The movers just called; they're around the corner. You might want to get up."
"muouah!" I said.
I quick-zombied over to my open suitcase on the floor, grabbed a t-shirt, and put it on. Backwards. I sighed. I pulled my arms out, twisted the shirt around, and put my arms back in. And it was still on backwards. "what the HELL!?" So then Ainsley thought it was a good idea to get Ryan away from me before I fell over and broke someone.

Nice enough guys; we helped them out by telling them to just throw everything in the garage except for a sleepersofa. Half the stuff is going back to a friend of mine on a U-Haul Wednesday, and we just felt it easier to deal with the re-mergement of our lives slowly, rather than having boxes in every room in the house. As it is, we have too much crap. Should be entertaining finding a home for all this stuff. I mean, four cheese graters? C'mon.