Right, Saturday. The day to unload all our junk into the new apartment. The U-haul that if you recall couldn’t hold all of our possessions. And while the new apartment is a good size, it certainly isn’t as large as our two bedroom (with garage).
But we were in good shape. We had a moving assistant, a good friend who made the drive with us. We had an elevator, and we had a handcart.
We were set. The boys went to drive the U-haul up to the apartment, while I took a call from the cable company about setting up our service. Conveniently, our apartment included basic cable, and our apartment manager gave us our rep’s card the night before. Inconveniently while I was taking that call someone STOLE OUR HANDCART.
Yes, someone decided to take a handcart from the lobby. Welcome to the SF, Bitch!
We were in a panic. We could certainly do this without a handcart, but it would take about five times as long. (We could fit about five boxes on the handcart, not to mention how it would help the boys with the heavy stuff). The good news sat in the back of the U-haul, behind boxes and boxes of crap. Attached to the fridge was a second handcart, an industrial strength model.
New plan, unload everything into the lobby, then use that one. It wasn’t ideal, but it was the only way we could return the U-haul that night.*
We unloaded everything into the lobby. Said goodbye to a few more items. We really didn’t need a broken chair. We got it all to the lobby. The boys moved the truck. They took a few of the heavier items upstairs (the fridge, the couch), and then THE FREAKING HANDCART RETURNED!
It was just sitting in the elevator, waiting for us like a person.
What. The. Bloody. Hell.
Long story less long, we got everything in, returned the U-haul, and calmed the cats back down.
We did it. We’re here.
It’s a fustercluck, but we’re here. And I am so grateful for the friends and family who supported us through this process. The people who helped us pack, who saw us out, who called to check in. The people who kept me sane…well, tried to. I wish you were all here now.
Not in my apartment; that’d get crowded. But in our complex? That’d be pretty cool.
So why does moving suck? It’s hard work. It costs much more than you’re expecting. A week before the move you can be well within budget and have funds to spare, then BAM! you’re broke and struggling to stay afloat (send us Trader Joes gift cards please!) The things you’ve known your entire life are suddenly different. My channels, I can’t make heads or tails of them! My entire life channel 2 was CBS, and now it’s FOX?!?! ? And learning where everything is? We needed a drugstore after 10pm one night, and Leonard drove around and around and around. Turns out, it was about five minutes away. And my friends and family. Did I mention that I miss you guys?
We’re here, and I’m thrilled, but damn, I’m ready for the moving process to be finished.
*It was due by 9am Sunday morning, but because I was working Fancy Foods, it was easier to return it on Saturday night.
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