This Is Why Moving Sucks

I wish I could say that moving is completed, but it is not.  We closed on the house a week ago Thursday and began bringing in the first pieces of our crap that day.  It wasn't much, but never go to your new house with an empty vehicle.  The next day Hubby parked at the new house as five different representatives arrived for their appointments to spray for bugs, etc.  We used my mother's garage as a storage shed for the new appliances and furniture purchased over the past few weeks.  With just Hubby, Son, and myself it took two days to empty those items plus a few extra that my mom threw in for good measure, like Grandma's dining room table, Grandpa's dresser and tool chest, and six cinder blocks stored in her basement that I mentioned would be ideal for a strawberry tower I saw on Pinterest.  Two days.  We were pooped and exhausted.

The big move was scheduled for this past Saturday.  In our planning for this day we had asked the guys who had moved items for our furniture store if they would be willing to help.  They agreed which was awesome because we have a lot of heavy stuff.  As Saturday approached they never returned any of our confirmation calls.  A friend had also offered a box truck from her work.  This wasn't a set-in-stone deal and we realized we may have to actually chuck up some money and rent a moving van.  Up until Monday she led us to believe the truck should be available which was great because extra funds were quickly drying up. 

On Wednesday everything fell to shit.  The moving guys still had not returned our calls and the moving truck was officially not available.  It was too late for us to make arrangements for a rental.  A panicked plea was posted to Facebook asking for help.  My most wonderful and fabulous sister-in-law stepped forward offering to bring her four kids, two of which are handy teenagers.  This was the weekend my stupid brother had planned to be out of the state with his stupid friends.  My other stupid brother who had single handedly moved me into this last house was magically nowhere to be seen.  Can't say as I blame him.  My closest friends had long ago said they were otherwise preoccupied.  This was going to be a piecemeal operation.

I took off work early… oh did I mention that I have been working through all of this mayhem with nary a day off????  Uh yeah, the big database rollout arrived June first and not only have I been working everyday, but I have also been putting in overtime.  So on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday we packed both vehicles to deliver what pieces we could  move on our own.

Saturday morning arrived and it was predicted to be blazing hot.  Yippee.  A ragtag group arrived at my door and between the various SUV's and our pickup with flatbed trailer we made three agonizing trips to the new house, dumping the greatest portion into the garage.  Our moving help morphed through the day as different people popped in and out as their timed allowed.  SIL stuck it out for the long haul.  She pointed out that my tiny family of three had far more stuff to move than her huge family of six she moved last summer.  Of course we do!  My tiny two bedroom, one bath bungalow was cramped living quarters for three people as the basement was basically storage for two closed businesses, our miniature grocery store style pantry, and the contents of two combined households of two diehard packrats.

By 9pm when we waved goodbye to the last of our helpers, we plopped down at a fast food restaurant.  Did no one bother to tell me that my hair was literally standing on end?  The humidity really did a number on my head.  We stumbled home in a stage well past exhaustion.  Had the couches not been already unboxed and arranged in the living room I'm pretty sure we would have slept on the floor because there was no way any of us had the ability to assemble our beds. 

After a quick nap we found ourselves sitting on the front porch at midnight absorbing the quiet of our new neighborhood.  Several times in the past 24 hours I have landed on the porch for a break.  It reminds me of a vacation home as all I can hear are birds and crickets.  Rarely in the middle of the day will someone walk past.  This is a huge difference from the bungalow nine houses away from a busy park.

We managed to finally go to sleep and in the morning I plucked through enough boxes to find my way to scramble eggs and make toast.  Wisely we set up our beds before venturing out for the afternoon as Sunday was much hotter and muggier than Saturday.  Between the heat and our aching bodies we managed to load up the items from the backyard shed and a few small pieces of furniture before tossing in the towel and heading home.  A quick stop at the grocery store to pick up chips for next Saturday's gathering and we realized we hadn't figured out dinner for the night.  We bought lettuce and tomatoes for BLT's.  This is really starting to feel like camping. Just as we pulled into the driveway big raindrops began to fall and then the skies opened up.  We scrambled to remove the furniture from the truck.  As I write, both vehicles still have items inside.  The rain never let up although i will say it was a beautiful summer thunderstorm complete with earth rattling thunder.  Again I was parked on the front porch enjoying the peace.

Remember I'm the sick bitch who enjoys packing?  I also enjoy UNpacking.  Unfortunately I do not have the time or energy to do anything.  Most of what I need is buried somewhere in the garage.  The few stray boxes that made their way to their designated rooms have been helpful but still lacking.  I found most of my clothes except what I regularly wear to work.  If they don't like today's attire then I will gladly offer that they can send me home… for the week!

There is STILL another load waiting for us at the old house.  I don't know when we will retrieve it.  All of us are too tired to even contemplate the problem.

When Shopping For a House

A friend told me about her sister who needed to move almost immediately after purchasing a house because they had failed to consider the school district.  They landed a gorgeous home in one of the shittiest school districts in all of St. Louis.  It's a total no-brainer but if you have preschool aged children then maybe it's something that missed your check list.

We had a similar no-brainer.  We know perfectly well the state of decline my former hometown has suffered.  Our new house is in a gorgeous neighborhood but we are realistic in understanding that there is a level of crime not so far away.  Yet it wasn't until we started discussing an alarm company to reduce our home owner's insurance that we suddenly noticed that absolutely every single house in the neighborhood has a little security sign in their front yard.  Had this been anywhere on our radar we may have bid differently (lower) for our house.

I watch the old lady across the street of my current (soon-to-be former) house struggle with the hike up the stairs to her house.  She is literally perched on a hill with 12 steps to her front door.  This was an important aspect to keep in mind as hubby's knees are in bad shape.  I kept a close eye on entry steps as well as interior stairs.  We landed a lovely mid-century ranch with only one single step to get inside the house.  There is a basement but that won't be part of the regular living space so that doesn't matter.  I do wonder, though, if my neighbor ever considered how treacherous those steps would be in her twilight years?  Or did anyone think about the challenge of mowing those steep hills?  If I owned one of those houses I would totally dig up the yard and landscape in a manner that wouldn't have me chasing a mower down the hill and then pushing it back up.

Parking is something that has never been something I put much thought into for any of my homes.  We always had a driveway.  This house has a shared driveway with the house next door.  On top of that, the street parking is so horrid that it's close to impossible to entertain without completely displacing all of my neighbors.  The new house has a private driveway as well as ample street parking for my visiting friends.  This has never been an issue, nor do I think it will be ever in the future, but I think it's worth considering when you find the house of your dreams - exactly where do your visitors have to park?  Even if you don't expect to do much entertaining, just having the visiting nurse to exchange your oxygen tank my be an issue.

My brother and SIL discovered that the showers in their new house posed a problem when SIL's mom came to visit for Christmas.  Her mother is in a wheelchair and was completely unable to bathe herself in a house with three bathrooms!  For a young family, having enclosed tubs was sufficient, but if and injury or visitor with limitations arrive, you could really appreciate having at least one walk-in shower.  That may not be a reason to pass up a house, but it could be something to consider when remodeling time comes around.

I'm sure wise readers could add to this list!  What suggestions would you make to a home shopper?

My Little Boy

I figured it was time to update my blog backgrounds and dug up an old header.  That kid?  He's not so little any more and it makes me a little weepy.  We are preparing to move out of our house and it strikes me multiple times how much time has passed in six little years. 

Ian had just turned ten when we moved in.  He was going to start fifth grade in a new school in a new district.  He was (and is) such an outgoing person that I knew he would adjust quickly.  He did. 

Despite having gone through the teen years twice already with his siblings and knowing that you just cannot predict the future, I am still surprised how far off base I was in guessing what/where/how he would be at 16.  Soooo far off.  And yet, like his siblings, he is exactly what/where/how he should be.

The one thing I got right was his size.  As a newborn I looked at his feet and compared him to a puppy, guessing that those large paws were indicative of a tall man one day.  Today he teeters over six feet and I swear every time he returns from dad's house he is an inch taller.  I don't know that he will reach the 6'4" heights of my brothers and I'm pretty sure my nephew will sprout pass him, but he is definitely the tallest of my children.  I have to look up to see his hazel eyes and the twerp enjoys every second of it.  He definitely relishes being taller than his big brother.

Our new home requires another change in schools and a return to our previous school district.  He's not happy about leaving his friends but social media and a future driver's license breaks that distance quickly.  He is excited about his new school, his new bedroom, and the Junior Man Cave.  We were honest that the basement was going to end up being mostly his domain.  Hubby's knees just are not going to make the trip down those stairs more than necessary so we are setting up the living room as his media center and Ian is getting the basement.  BOOYAH!

The past year has already proved that Ian has developed upper body strength and he will be an asset as we lug all of our crap to the new house.  His understanding of electronics will mean he will be vital in getting the TV's, game systems,  and audio wiring in place.  Maybe if I had put my head into it a little harder I could have foreseen these traits coming to fruition.  Instead I am in awe.

He is an amazing young man, and "man" is the right word.  What the hell happened to my little boy?

My House Is Amazing

Actually my house is a maze... of boxes.  Of course I did not plan this well so it isn't a cool maze with tunnels, twists, turns, and deadends.  No, it's an old person maze with consideration of natural walking paths and not blocking the view of the TV or access to the bathroom.  The worst of it is you have to turn sideways to leave the living room or enter my son's bedroom.

We are a week away from closing and two weeks away from moving.  Very soon we will be living out of suitcases.  This weekend I plan to empty cupboards and cabinets.  I had up to this point packed away all of the extra stuff or things I knew we wouldn't need - like five boxes of cake mix and the new "guest" towels.  Now I'm going to narrow down the the absolute essentials like salt and toothpaste to be left out or sitting in an opened box on the counter.

For all of the people who detest and hate packing - I am the sick asshole who enjoys it.  Maybe I should do this for a living?  hmmmmm

Friday Fragments - September 14, 2012

I'm watching enough movies that I might have to start doing reviews and recommendations every week.  The two movies that stand out this week are The Goodbye Girl (1977) and Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close (2011).  Compared to the other Oscar nominees that are usually drab or slow moving dramas, The Goodbye Girl was cute and funny.  I was happy after watching it, something I prefer after sitting through two hours of anything.  I have long avoided ELIC because it was about a boy dealing with his father's death in the World Trade Center - wow, big mistake.  While it's tearjerk-worthy, it was also an uplifting story.  The kid was goofy, but people responded to him.  There were a lot of raw emotions and they were dealt with appropriately so we felt the pain and yet not brought down by it.  I definitely liked it and could easily watch it again to try to catch some of the nuances I missed the first time.

I also thought ELIC should be added to a list of extra-credit movies a coworker can watch for her anthropology class.  I'm sort of following the class assignments so I can help edit her papers.  Yes, I'm a sucker who actually enjoys giving that sort of feedback.  My daughter still sends me stuff for editing.  I'm not necessarily the best in grammar, but she did manage to land A's in her high school and college classes that required writing.

Despite some unsettling drama in our personal lives, last weekend was a pleasant diversion.  Hubby and I toodled around town, allowing me to grab some fun pictures.  It's difficult with his bad knees so he drives and makes frequent stops for me to hop out of the truck, snap some pictures, and move on.  On Sunday I posted our trip to the Wild Bird Sanctuary.  You'll have to come back this Sunday to see which of my other stops I decide to post.  In other words I haven't narrowed it down yet.

In case you were wondering, my brother and SIL have FINALLY completed the closing on their house.  Uh that would be SEVEN WEEKS of camping while their property in North Dakota was finalized before they could complete the paperwork for the new property in Missouri.  Maddening, isn't it.  They are now sleeping in their own beds with a real roof over their heads.  And yes, they were literally camping.  With big, icky thunderstorms rolling through once a week.

Please check out everyone else playing along with Friday Fragments!

Truths About Moving

No, I didn't move, but we did help someone over the weekend.

All I can say is my my my, what an eye opening experience.  And it's funny for me to say that as I have plenty of moves under my belt and several handful of times helping other people.  Yesterday, however, I think I did more observing than lifting.

Moving, I've heard, is one of the tests of marriage (I don't remember all of the "tests" but putting up wallpaper and canoe trips were on the list).  I have another thought about moving.  We all have dirt and cobwebs in our lives, moving will expose it all - literally and metaphorically.  Think long and hard to whom you expose yourself.

Like your mother.

Man oh man.  Nothing brings out the mother-child dynamic than allowing momma in your home to help you move.  Suddenly she starts bitching about the cleanliness of the items to be moved and questioning the need of certain things.  It was startling to see a middle-aged adult quiver under her mother's criticisms.  The mover was almost reduced to tears as momma pushed on, harder and harder accusing laziness.  It was bullying like I've never seen before out of this woman.  I knew it was there and this brought it out.  It explains soooooooooo much what I see in momma's other children.  So much.

The siblings who came to help, blissfully toted furniture out the door, deaf to the exchange inside because they weren't the ones in the crosshairs.  Later, the siblings echoed momma's sentiments, clearly their sister deserved momma's wrath.

Wow.  Just wow.

Successful moving is all in the packing.  The better items are labeled, the less conversation needed from the movers.  If you want truly stress-free moving, pay for it.  From strangers.

Moving is stressful.  Horribly stressful.  This is not the time to pick up something and question its purpose, its history, or its cost.  Just load it on the truck and haul it to the destination.  Period.  If you are there to help, park your psychology degree at the door and do the job at hand - lift and hoist.

Friday Fragments - July 30, 2010

Yay!  Time for Friday Fragments when we get to share all the pieces of our lives.

*Birthday Month has come to an end.  My Birthday Party Blog Hop was a tremendous failure.  NOBODY participated.  BOO!  On the upside, I figured out how to set up a blog hop AND I'm not defeated.  There will be more.  I have an idea for a regular one, so we'll see.

*Last weekend was the Friend's Trip to the lake.  It did not fail to deliver and as always I came home relaxed - the whole goal of a good vacation.  There's just something to sitting in the water to erase all of your tension.  Or maybe it's laughing your ass off.  Whatever, it works.  Also, like every year, I came home with a rash.  I swear it's a mild form of poison ivy and everyone asks if maybe it's something I pick up in the gross lake water.  Well, no, it's always on the back of my upper thighs, sometimes with a distinct line where my swimsuit sits.  This year I also had it on my back just above my swim suit.  The best I can figure there's a weak amount of poison ivy oils on one of the seats on the boat because it is very much restricted to areas where I sit and shows up almost immediately after a boat ride.  Fortunately it doesn't spread and it's not very severe.  In the future I hope I remember to sit on a towel.

*With work and the lake weekend I haven't yet visited the kids in their new house.  I'm hoping to make a trip out there this weekend.  I'm very excited to see how they've transformed the house from Granny's into their own (my two oldest and their significant others have moved into my former MIL's house).  This is a very solid move into adulthood and I'm sure they'll make it a successful living arrangement.

*My grandma is also moving - into the memory care unit.  Grandma's dementia is getting progressively worse.  My mom has been losing a lot of sleep worrying about her mother so hopefully this will help.  Now we have to worry how she will accept living a roommate.  All bets are on "not at all".  She is a very paranoid little woman convinced everyone is out to steal her stuff - and that was before the dementia kicked in.  She has chased nurses out of her room with her cane and does everything she can to lock her door almost to the point of being a fire hazard.  Getting a roommate is going to be interesting.

*For my birthday the coworkers went all out and completely blocked my desk.  It took nearly a half hour to clear away the crap just so I could sit down!  I'm slowly moving the rest of it away.  They also took me out to Qdoba for lunch - YUM.  Then hubby and my mom took me out for dinner - another YUM.  It was a very nice day - YAY!

*I can't believe school is starting in just a few weeks!  We have doctor appointments and shopping to get in next week.  But first I think I'm going to take care of a little ME shopping.  I cannot express how much I adore Kohl's with their coupon weekends and Kohl's Cash.  Add that to a giftcard from my mom - WOO HOO!

Lost Pots and Pans

So yesterday you read about how I found my current house and the one before it.  Well today I will share how I managed to LOSE my freaking pots and pans in the move here.

I have an OCD streak - one that loves to organize things as evidenced in most of my cabinets and drawers.  On top of that, I can pack shit like nobody's business.  Toss all of the suitcases out on the lawn and I will make them fit in the trunk.  People are amazed at my awesomeness (really).

But then there's that other set of initials, my pesky case of ADD, the one that gets distracted by shiny things and commercials and causes me to wander off and start re-alphabetizing the CD rack in the middle of dinner.  So OF COURSE I lost my pots and pans in a move.  It just means they're in a box mislabeled.

I turned the house upside down, well not literally and not very well figuratively as there were several boxes I didn't mess with.  I learned how to pack from Martha Stewart herself.  NO not the jailbird freak, my mother, and no, her name isn't Martha Stewart, but she does all that crazy crap the real Martha does and just as perfect.  Me, not so much.  My mother not only packs her boxes according to room and contents and has every single item listed ON the box but also keeps a ledger of each box and contents as each box has a unique identifying number ("it makes it easier when directing the movers where to put the boxes").  So my boxes are labeled more specifically than "kitchen" because I also add "GLASS" or "POTS AND PANS", but not as perfectly as my mom's with the exact description of each of the fourteen items.

I had the corningware and one saucepot.  I could cook.  I was managing, but the boxes were dwindling and I still could not find the pots and pans.  These were treasures.  I had a full set of Farberware pots and pans from my wedding in 1987 - none of which was on my registry and all of it from various guests.  AND an awesome soup pot.  I loved that thing - I used it all the time.  GONE.  The skillets GONE.  I was ready to cry.  Only one little pot was on the shelf - WHERE WERE THE REST?

Two of my friends were on the receiving end of the boxes as they arrived into the house and were trying to get the kitchen set up.  I called them several times "are you SURE you don't remember the pots and pans?"  No, they were busier drinking and recovering from a flat tire while trying to buy Hanna Montana tickets that morning.  My pots and pans were not lodged anywhere in their memories.  Nor did they understand my dismay - neither one cooks.  The corningware and saucepot should be sufficient for any cooking, right?  Why do I need all of those other ones - they don't fit in the microwave do they?

I remember sitting in the old kitchen in front of the pots and pans cabinet.  I remember the box.  I remember putting the pieces in there.  Not all of them.

Crap.  I must have packed only half of the cabinet!

I called the old landlord and got access to the house even though they assured me the cleaners had already swept through the entire property.   It was weird walking through there, empty as the day I moved in.  The cabinets were empty.  All of them.  Including the tiny one above the stove that housed my cookbooks.  Suddenly I panic because I haven't started looking for my cookbooks and I really do not remember touching this particular cabinet and five of my magnets are still clinging to the hood.  OH HOLY SHIT I LEFT MY STUFF IN THE HOUSE!!!!!  Even WORSE than losing my treasured pots and pans are all of my cookbooks.

Hyperventellating 

Extreme sadness

VERGE OF TEARS sad

I walk into the garage - no clue why I ventured in there.  On the shelf are five cookbooks.  MY FUCKING COOKBOOKS.  Not all of them.  No, the good ones were gone, but I snatch up my remaining books and locked up the house.

I spent the next few weeks scouring the internet trying to find the various pieces I lost.  This was going to be expensive.  And I was still very broke.  They were going on my Christmas list with my mom.

THEN, one day, I was going to cook something that needed to be broiled.  The broiler.

THE BROILER.

This is an electric oven.  That is NOT a broiler drawer on the bottom...  IT'S A REAL DRAWER FOR POTS AND PANS!

Right where my drunk friends stored them.