We have been moving for a week now. I hope and pray I never have to go through this ordeal again.
We started on my wife’s house last week. I was amazed at how much stuff she had in her 1,030 square foot house. It was like the little car at the circus with all the clowns.
We rented a Portable On Demand Storage unit (PODS) for her house and filled it up rather quickly with large items.
For some reason, people think the larger pieces are the most difficult. While moving a dresser up a flight of stairs is no easy task, it’s somewhat easier than picking up all the little stuff. The little stuff drives me insane. It is everywhere!
We found so much in her house as we packed and moved, but thankfully there were no clowns.
Her family has a history of collecting antiques. While fascinating, it was just so much. I thought I’d walked into the Museum of East Alabama.
We have great friends. Due to sentimental reasons, Lucy wanted to keep the front door to her house. I bought a door but had no idea how to replace it. My handyman skills are on par with my musical skills. One of our friends came over and replaced it after a long day at work followed by an evening at the ballfields. Like I said, we have great friends.
We had several friends come over at different points to help. As a matter of fact, one friend brought over his 20-foot trailer, and we were able to move everything from the PODS to the new house in one load, which not only expedited the process but also saved us money. We had things on the trailer and in the bed and cab of the truck. The theme to Sanford & Son played in my head continuously.
We closed on her house last Friday, which meant that it was time to empty my house to make room for potential renters.
I knew that my house would be a piece of cake because I was so organized. Sadly, that was not the case. As I sit here on my couch typing this article, after three full days of moving, I am still surrounded by junk. I was not as organized as I thought.
We loaded up the trailer again on Saturday and then again on Sunday afternoon. We got it covered with a tarpaulin just as the rain came on Sunday and somehow managed to avoid getting anything wet when we arrived at the new house. The Lord was looking down on us, because he spared my wrestling DVDs from ruination.
We went through my entire DVD collection. Lucy was in a state of shock when she saw the wrestling collection, and the Sanford & Son box sets almost caused an anxiety attack.
We went through several of my boxes. My stuff isn’t as old as her stuff and doesn’t t have the sentimental value as her stuff either, but I thought I was going to have an anxiety attack when she made me throw away the sporks, plastic cups and Cool-Whip bowls. They still had some miles left in them.
I’ve started almost every paragraph in this column with “we,” because it was definitely a joint effort. I’ve helped plenty of people move, but I’ve never seen a wife as actively involved in moving things.
Usually, they just point out miniscule discrepancies as they are directing traffic.
My wife did that, too, but she did it with a box in her hand.
We worked hard, but we couldn’t have done any of this without our family and friends. It’s times like this that you find out who your real friends are. Every person I asked either came to help or had a legitimate reason for being unable to do so.
“Associate with men of good quality if you esteem your own reputation; for it is better to be alone than in bad company.” -George Washington
Find out who your real friends are. They are the ones who will help you move until 11 p.m. on a week night. They are the ones who will let you borrow their truck until the wee hours of the morning. They are the ones who will come over to help you move on a Sunday afternoon before baseball practice.
They are the ones who will spend the whole weekend helping you move in the rain. They are the ones who share your dislike of clowns.