The last time I moved, it was a marathon ordeal, crisis after crisis, and it wore me out from worry as much as the physical exertion. This time I had my share of worrying, but it was compressed into what now seems like just a few days. And most of the strain on my body actually did take place in just one day. I think I'll feel the effects for a while longer.

Take today, for example. My back is aching, and I can hardly keep my eyes open. My hands are a raw and bloody mess. My arms are sore, but it's been my legs that have given me the most problems. At times today, I've had to sit down, wherever I happened to be standing, because my legs would no longer support me.

More alarmingly, I was walking down some steps and had to grip the banister to keep from tumbling, up, down or sideways. It was one of my more wobbly days ever.

Mom was here for a while this afternoon, helping put my kitchen away. I say "helping" in the sense that she did it and I mostly sat on the couch and cracked jokes, the kind you make when you're too tired to censor yourself. The phone guy thought we were pretty funny, but the cable guy was way too serious.

Unfortunately, the phone company screwed up my order, exactly as they did in April when I moved to Green Acres. I mean exactly. Promises by the order department couldn't be kept by the installer, because the order department didn't follow through with the dispatcher.

Only one of my two lines was installed, and it was the fax/modem line. So no one can call me unless I remember to unplug the modem when I go off line and plug in the phone. I usually forget, so callers don't even get a busy signal, just ring after ring.

I know I could rig it so that all this plugging and unplugging wasn't necessary, but it's a low priority item, with all the unpacking I have yet to do. Besides, my fond hope is that Pacific Bell will show up first thing Tuesday morning to make things right. Yeah, I know, I'm a dreamer. It could happen, though.

If I could have been as diligent putting together the office as Mom was in the kitchen, I might have got some work done. She got tired and had to take breaks, too, but she always went back to it. Me, I just kept melting into the couch.

Several times today I could have fallen asleep, if I hadn't been attacked by the most aggressive flies I've met in a long time. They were all over me every time I was still for too long. I guess when you move in after the doors were wide open for most of four days, you should expect a few flies.

This is really snail country. I'll eventually rid the house of insects, but the snails in my garden and the fields beyond are so prolific that they climb up the side of the garage like lemmings in reverse, bodies strewn vertically all the way to the peak of the roof. On the ground below are the shells of fallen comrades, the bodies of the most recent victims overrun by ants.

So far the only wildlife to make it inside the house without escaping my notice have been one earwig (quickly dispatched) and one tiny frog (chased down and returned to its natural habitat in the wilds of the garden). And flies, flies, flies.

Sleep was different last night. It wasn't longer, because I was up puttering into the wee hours, but it was more satisfying. I don't know yet if the peace and quiet out here is the reason. It could be I was simply worn out and would have slept like a baby even on the median strip of the 101 freeway. Or maybe it's just the peace of mind from having the move behind me and the Noisy neighbors out of shouting range.

I do know that I felt as if I were taking my life back. I really had the sense of being in charge of my own reality. I no longer have to tiptoe around, wary of disturbing the sleeping giant in the next cave. I can tromp around and play my own music as loud and as late as I want, because I know that it won't trigger anything in the people next door. Because, at last, there are no people next door.