Moving day has come and gone. The world has started to settle back down now, after picking up every single belonging we have, and carrying in into the moving van, and then back out of the moving van. It was absolutely, without a doubt, one of the most exhausting experiences I’ve lived through. Anybody who says you should move periodically to de-clutter, or just to have a new shiny place, is certifiably insane (sorry Dad, but you are nuts!). I hope to never move again! Actually, I hear that the military will move you for free (packing included). That might be enough to get me to join up. At the beginning of this process, Jon didn’t think it would be all that hard. I think he’s singing a different tune now….
I did have a good thought though as a result of all of this. I think that if we want to rehabilitate criminals, we should just make them move. From start to finish. Packing the stuff in boxes, packing the truck, trying to get it all to fit, organizing so nothing scratches or breaks, taking it all out, moving it around, putting all the furniture back together, and unpacking all the boxes. All day, everyday. That should scare them straight!
I have a ton of appreciation for the souls that were willing to help. My parents. My friend Katie’s fiancée Brent, and their toddler (who contributed by picking up large quantities of pinecones and rocks, and dropping pinecones, rocks and Cheerios). Actually, she helped to keep smiles on our faces. My friend Shelley and her teenaged daughter (a teenager helped for the price of a peppermint mocha! Apparently the pull of not having to stay home with dad is strong…) And last but not least, our real estate agent Tom and his wife Bliss, who helped move furniture, boxes, and even helped to do a last once over of the old house before turning over the keys.
The weather held for the first day of moving, giving us blue sky and fairly warm fall temps to maneuver all the furniture out of and into homes. The second day made up for it, unleashing an all day fury of pouring raining and darkness. At least the hail waited until we had everything back inside. I suppose it probably didn’t matter if we were wet from rain or sweat. Although the fogged up glasses were challenging at times.
I’d be lying if I said there weren’t some meltdowns, and some arguments about how much stuff we have. And we still haven’t completely agreed on where some things will go. In the brain fog that was our lives for those few, Jon misplaced the brand new box of trash bags I bought. And when we went to the gas station to fill the rental truck before returning it (I was following in my car to pick him up), I completely forgot that I needed gas too. My warning light blinked on about two miles later.
The new house is in a constant state of flux. Boxes here and there, only to have different boxes in different places a half hour later. The garage has a semi-usable path through the maze of boxes, which are rearranged multiple times a day as we try to find what we need, or what we want to unpack next. The cats are adjusting. Martini and Oscar have decided they own the stairs. Martini asserts total dominance – she won’t even move when you go up or down over her, but Oscar chickens out when you challenge his domain. Oliver loves all the new windows to watch squirrels and birds from. And new cats in the yard below to growl at. Never mind that the other cat has no idea that Oliver is up there watching – he guards his territory anyway.
Thankfully, there have only been minor casualties from the move. A stoneware plate that emerged from a box with a crack in it, and a shattered mug, wine glass and crystal decanter, all dropped after being extricated from boxes. We sweep up and move along to the next box. Hopefully the rest of the boxes will be so intact.
When I’m not unpacking, I have a long list of places to phone with our change of address. I’ve gotten all the online ones out of the way first, because that’s easier. You don’t think about how tied we are to one place, and after 8 ½ years, that’s a lot of ties to untie. One day at a time. One phone call at a time. One box at a time. At least the wine glasses and wine are unpacked already!
Wine and History Visited 