August Update - Moving Delays (Patreon)

A much needed update for the August backers and everyone else along for the insanity of my life. 

Buckle in. 

Note: I'm hotspotting in a cafe as we speak, on my tablet. 

In the last few days or so I've been able to post some vague updates to discord but now that I'm half settled I can make a proper update here for you all and share this story.

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I am behind schedule, and no it's not a normal behind schedule debacle where it just took me longer to finish a model because I got obsessed with a detail like I normally do, it's bigger this time. 

My partner and I relocated from Kaikoura to Queenstown this past week, today is actually our second full day in our new flat and he's off to his first day of his new job, but the journey to get here went from being an easy, scheduled, and planned event (my contribution) to an insane journey of epic proportions. And since this town was a major filming location for all of the LOTR and Hobbit films ...

Our original plan had been to rent a moving truck ourselves, load it up ourselves, and then journey on down to Queenstown on our own. A simple, effective plan that was planned around our move in dates, my work schedule, etc.  

Until my partner's brother, (Patrick), swung in with a new plan that would save us a lot of money! He'll come down to our place with his giant trailer, help us load it up and drive it to Queenstown. A solid, easy plan revolving around brotherly love, right?

Kinda. I've spent the last week slowly learning that Patrick may have the best of intentions, but he has all the planning skills, grace, and tact of a rampaging rhinoceros on speed.

Instead of sitting on my computer diligently working, as I'm meant to do because that's my job, and packing up around the house, my partner and I were left scrambling hour by hour as Patrick's plans around getting down to us to help us move kept changing, and those changes included me whether I liked it or not.

Would my partner revert back to our earlier, easier plan? No, because using Patrick means saving heaps of money on the moving truck - which is fair, it would take 9 hours for my parnter to drive to Queenstown, drop off his car and pick up the truck, and then a nine hour drive back to Kaikoura to our house (Kaikoura is so small, there was literally nothing to rent there, it's too in-the-middle-nowhere. The nearest McDonalds is 2 hours away, that's how isloated it is.)

And then a new plan came to pass that I couldn't get out of, and took away all of my work time where I would have finished the figures, sent them to the support man, and you'd all be printing some vampires right now. 

In order to use Patrick's trailer, my partner and I needed to drive down to Christchurch, pick up Patrick's new workers from the airport, rent a minibus, and drive them to Nelson. 

This plan involved me (against my will) to help, as I'd have to drive my partner's car back to Kaikoura while he drove the minibus to Nelson. 

Did I mention that Christchurch is 3 hours away from Kaikoura, and Nelson is 7 hours away from Christchurch?

Did I also mention that I have not driven a car since I lived in the United States almost 10 years ago, and I had to spend a couple of days crash-course-learning how to drive my partner's car, on the wrong side of the road with the wheel on the wrong side of the car? Using up a lot of my work time - basically I got nothing done. It was impossible.

I might technically have a New Zealand driver's license but I got it purely so I could buy booze without carrying my passport around, because I may be 31 but I still somehow look like a minor. 

So the day comes, I had to sleep the night before instead of working late because, you know, I had to drive heaps by myself on the wrong side of road and didn't want to be a tired muppet and crash the car - a practical fear given the circumstances. My partner also took the computer away to make me go to bed so I wouldn't be tired while driving his car. 

So my partner and I load up the car with snacks and Powerade, let Patrick know we're leaving, and we head on down to Christchurch - listening to Amy Winehouse and having a good time together, all things considered, until we're on the outskirts of Christchurch ... we're almost there ... and Patrick calls ... he calls to let us know that he doesn't need us to drive the workers to Nelson, he just needs my partner to help them get some beds in a hostel for the night after they land and and get them to their accommodations. 

My driving skills were no longer needed ... but I was already there, in Christchurch, with no way back to Kaikoura until my partner finished ferrying these workers around the city. 

It took all day. 

I got to spend my day sitting in the airport watching tired people get off planes, although I did get to go to the city later  and get some sushi ... but it wasn't that good. 

Then, as we're heading back home, finally, Patrick calls again to let us know he's on his way to our place! Surprise! He'll get there in the wee hours of the morning, we'll load up the trailer and then head down to Queenstown (days ahead of our original schedule). See, we're on Patrick's schedule now. 

So we had to get home, which ended up being very late, and pack up the rest of the house in double time. We'd load up the trailer the next morning, clean the house, and take off to Queenstown. 

My partner would drive the trailer with Patrick so he could sleep after all the shenanigans he'd been into, and I'd follow behind with the car - meaning we both also needed sleep because again, it's a 9 hour drive, longer with the trailer because it has to go slower on these very windy New Zealand roads. 

A solid plan, right?

Patrick does, indeed, show up, and this is where I learn that he has all the consideration of herd of angry elephants. I'm honestly surprised he didn't just throw the couch through the window of the house to be honest. 

Somehow though, he packed up our entire house onto the trailer in about an hour - that's all furniture included. We'd estimated maybe 3 hours to get it all packed properly because we actually wanted our stuff to remain undamaged, but that wasn't Patrick's plan. Oh no. 

He packed it all up and took off, without us, and told us to just clean house and catch up with him. 

I should mention that poor Moose was loosing his absolute mind at all of the above. He has never entered the same room as Patrick, and now i know why. 

He senses that dark chaotic energy.

As his hiding spots were slowly being loaded onto the truck he was getting more and more pissed off and did not help with cleaning the now empty house.

But we sped through cleaning, loaded the angry cat into his travel box (which he hates) and took off in an attempt to catch up with Patrick because the plan involved switching drivers. 

My partner would take over driving the trailer so Patrick could sleep and I'd follow behind in the car, except I was already planning on going around these mo-fos and heading to Queenstown on my own, without them, to avoid anymore of their scandalous changing plans - plus I didn't want Moose in the car any longer than necessary and I was sick of Patrick's insanity - because during all of the above, the plan changed multiple times, I just didn't write it out because it was just too much.

I was planning my escape. 

So we sped along for 2 hours trying to catch up, then we get a call. 

Patrick had stopped for breakfast somewhere and was now somewhere behind us.  So we didn't need to speed through cleaning and leave Kaikoura without saying goodbye to our friends that morning like I'd planned to do ... because he was off somewhere eating and taking his sweet-fcking-time.

So we had to pull off into a random town and wait for this psycho to catch up to us. 

It's ok, it's cool it's cool it's cool. This is just how traveling is. 

He finally rocks up with our trailer of stuff and ... wait for it ... a new plan! 

Now he wants to drive the trailer to Queenstown, and have Alex and I head to Christchurch, pick up the aforementioned workers, hire a minibus and drive them to Nelson. 

He actually wanted me to drive the workers to Nelson so my partner could go to Queenstown and help him unload the trailer in our new place and then how would I get from Nelson to Queenstown? Fuck knows man. 

I vetoed that really quick and my partner multiplied the terribleness of my driving abilities to try and dissuade Patrick from this plan. 

After that conversation Patrick thinks I'm an invalid but who cares at this point. 

So we're just in a parking lot somewhere trying to argue him out of this insanity because we, unlike him, are not psychopathic robots that can just run nonstop and drive all over the country on a whim without getting tired. 

We finally got him to go back to the OG plan of just driving the trailer to Queenstown, and he was like "Yeah alright, I'll drive it to Queenstown then." 

Alex and I promptly got into the car and took off before he could change his mind and he was waving at us in the rearview mirror - not to say goodbye, but to stop. 

We did not stop. The plan was set. We're going to fcking Queenstown now. We had to escape The Patrick.

Somehow we got out of Patrick's wacky plans, I weaselled out of having to do any driving, and we were on our way to Queenstown. 

Did I mention that Moose took a massive sh!t in his travel box in the first hour of the trip? And I was on the side of the highway trying to clean it out because it was rank? No? I'll just throw that in there so you can feel my pain. 

So we drive another 7 hours or so, at this point, to get to Queenstown. 

When we're almost there Patrick calls - this whole time we assumed he was maybe 1.5 - 2 hours behind us because he has to drive slower of course. NZ road can be very curvy and we were going through a lot of mountains. 

Instead, Patrick had gone to Christchurch to deal with his workers himself, and had been there the entire time. He was still there when he called us when we were only an hour or so away from our destination. 

Now, this is where my slyness comes into effect. 

Because during all of this batshitty insanity I actually booked a motel in Queenstown, because I had planned on just taking the car off on my own and getting there on my own, and hunkering down in the motel until this shit was sorted ... so good thing I did! 

Because it's now 10PM (I think) and all of our stuff was in Christchurch, about 6-7 hours away, with Patrick. So we had no beds or anything to sleep in the flat. 

My partner was freaking out but I explained the above and how we already had a motel booked for the night and he was all - 

Now, we get there at ten minutes before we're able to check into this motel, Moose wees on himself. He only had to wait 10 more minutes, but the poor boy was done. He did the wee. 

So I'm now in a motel shower with terrible water pressure, butt naked, holding this fcking cat under the trickling water trying to wash him off while he claws my neck and shoulders in protest and screams bloody-fcking-murder. 

It's a good thing I booked a cabin ... instead of a room ... so no-one could hear the screams. 

He also figured out how to open the sliding shower door really quick and actually knocked it off its sliding hinges at one point. 

So after that insanity, he was unhappy and spent most of the night on my bed (wet) staring at me like this. (A real photo of Moose) while I continued to bleed from my various new scratches. 

Mind you, it was a terrible bath and he was still sniffy, and he made a point of walking all over my partner's bed with his wetness. 

My partner ended up sleeping on the couch and locked the two of us in the bedroom. 

Patrick called to let us know he was going to drive to Queentown right then and so he'd be there at between 2 and 4AM and we could meet him to unload the trailer then. 

So we promptly go to sleep, and around 3AM Patrick calls and I'm all like - 

Except he calls to say that he's actually stopped somewhere to sleep. Which is fair because two of his dogs have been in the car for this entire fcking trip. 

These are hunting dogs, not ride-in-the-car-for-four-days-straight dogs. They're probably going stir crazy (I love them, they're so sweet with me, but they will shred a boar apparently and take down a deer like its nothing). Flo & Jasper, for everyone more interested in the dogs than Patrick. 

Ok, that's fair, that means we can go back to sleep too, so we do. 

Moose is still pissed and has a smelly wet-cat smell and still smells like wee so I've put up a barrier of pillows between me and him, because he's curled up next to my head and won't move - he's doing it on purpose. 

Morning comes, we get the cat out from under the bed where he's now hidden because he knows what's coming, and get him back into his box - I stole towels to line his box so he was comfy. It was a two person job to get him in there. 

I also stole all of the hot chocolate, coffee, sugar, and tea that was in the room. All of it. I was feeling quite spiteful. 

We get checked out and head over to our flat and get Moose in there with his litter box and let him yell a bit but overall he's fine. He's just being vocal about his discomfort. 

Then we get a call. 

It's The Patrick. 

We both wanted to think he was calling to say he was almost there but we had a feeling it would be something else and ... we were right. 

See, around 6AM that very morning he took off to head our way and stopped along the way to let the dogs out because they need to poop too. 

Well, these two dogs, who had been trapped in the car for days instead of going hunting like they were supposed to do, were apparently quite fucked off with Patrick over this whole ordeal, so these two little assholes took off after something on their own. 

Gone. 

In the middle of wide open New Zealand country landscape. Apparently this isn't unprecedented and they could be gone for days. They'll go out, hunt down a boar, eat it, then come back after their hunt is over, and they've chosen this day to take themselves hunting since Patrick hadn't done it yet. 

So now Patrick is in the middle of nowhere with our trailer and 2 missing dogs, and he can't just leave them there, obviously.

I think at this point everyone is fucked off, the dogs are just the only ones doing something about it. 

So we wait a while ... and Patrick hasn't' found them. 

But then Patrick calls with a new plan and I'm all -

The NEW plan, is that my partner and I drive 3 hours away to where Patrick is trying to find his dogs. 

I will stay there with my partner's car and wait for the dogs to finish hunting their boar or deer or whatever and come back. 

Meanwhile my partner and Patrick will drive to Queenstown and unload the trailer. 

If the dogs show up while they're gone, I'll drive them to Queenstown so their dad can ground them. If not, Patrick will drive back to my location and take over looking for these mutts. 

Just so you're aware - you can't really say no to Patrick, he's going to do his thing whether you like it or not and you can't push back. I think my partner is afraid of pushing back actually, which is the problem, because Patrick is the kind of person who will just say 'alright then' and then leave and never talk/help you again. 

100% crazy country bushman person. 

So we get in the flippin' car and start driving to wherever Patrick is.  

About an hour and a half into this drive, Patrick calls to say he found the dogs. So we turn around and head back to Queenstown. 

I have no information on whether or not they caught the boar and neither one of us asked. 

So now we just wait around for Patrick to get to our flat with our trailer and when he does ... it's not over yet folks. 

Patrick rocks up with this rickety trailer and, in front of our lovely landlords, proceeds to unload an entire household of furniture and stuff in about 10 minutes. Literally, throwing this furnitre through the door and I'm doing my best to catch it and get it out of the way of the new stuff without scratching the floors of this brand-new-home-that-was-literally-just-delivered-and-set-up. 

I mean, brand new. Out landlords bought one of those prefab houses and had it set up and hooked up literally a day or two before we started this harrowing journey, and had it repainted and everything on the inside. It still smelled of paint even. 

So he unloads everything, my partner tries to say something about all the furniture we just watched him break, but Patrick isn't hearing it. He jumps in his car and takes off with the trailer, super pleased with his accomplishments. 

Meanwhile my partner and I are in this new house where the once clean, brand new floors are now covered in mud and gravel. 

Our mattresses and sheets are covered in mud and are soaking wet. 

Our bed bases are covered in mud and are soaking wet. 

Our clothes are soaking wet. 

My nice bags are covered and stained with mud now, the inside contents now wet. 

My partner's dresser drawers that he's had for 20 years is soaking wet and nearly ruined. They won't survive another move, after this he'll have to let it go. 

Our dishes are somehow only half broken but all covered in car grease. Our lamps are broken. My backup desk has bent legs and is wobbling but standing and workable for now. 

I should have taken a photo of the aftermath but it really didn't cross my mind at the time. Hindsight. 

My poor partner was exhausted from all of the driving, but we had to load up all the bedding and take it to a laundromat and I took over trying to sort through the disaster and get it cleaned up and put away and everything arranged. 

He bought us some tacos though. 

Is that the end of the story? 

Not quite. 

See I've dried out the mattresses, de-mudded the beds, put the house together and cleaned these new floors that are now covered in scratches, but there's one major issue now standing in my way of sending out your vampires and huntress. 

The internet. 

See we called our company over a week ago and let them know we were moving, which is all good! Easy peasy, they just transfer our service and it was meant to be working when we got here. 

And, well, it was, kinda. 

See, the idiots connected our service to our landlords house instead of this new house. So our internet people are trying to reconnect our service to our actual house to the fibre box that is in this house, and they have to call the fibre people to do it. 

Now, there is a fibre box in this house, i've seen it with my own eyeballs, but despite it being there, the fibre people are saying 'tHiS aDdReSs DoEsNt ExIsT sO wE CaNt HeLp' 

Which is making it extremely difficult for our internet people to fix their mistake and get our internet hooked up properly

So that's why I'm in a cafe on a hotspot trying to let you all know that I've got your models, but no way to deliver them yet, so until I can i'll just keep tweaking them shall I? 

Can we just take a moment to take our hats off to Patrick though. He did help us get moved to our new flat and he's a good brother with the best of intentions but ... 

I had some words for my partner.