The Move

I'm typing right now from my new living room. I'm sitting in a lawn chair that is currently on the exercise mat that usually has a set of rollers on it. I can almost see my dining room table beyond the boxes, bins and bookcases placed on or around it. Believe it or not, this is progress.

The move was on Monday. I did not hire movers. I received a quote from one reputable company and thought - no way, for that price I can move myself. In hindsight I may (absolutely did) not have thought that through.

Closing was interesting. The last time I closed on a house was circa 2002 (?). That time the worst of it was "so it's only you" about a thousand times. Apparently it was as rare as a garden gnome in the Arctic for a 20-something female to purchase a home ALL BY HERSELF. I actually wrote a check for the down payment and the seller was there to countersign - in black ink only.

This time everything was completed electronic-like and I showed up for 20minutes to sign about a thousand disclosures. My signature devolved into a scribble as the pages kept coming and I remarked that each one of these disclosures exist because someone sued someone else for something that wasn't directly stated in a contract. We kill more trees to print more paper because some j-hole was a ... well ... j-hole.That was it. It seemed way too easy, like I was missing something. I lingered for a minute like - um - are we good? We were and so the move began. Oh, and not once did someone question me buying a home by myself. So there's that.

I am without words to describe the joys (ahem) of actually packing all of your worldly belongings into a box truck. The most fun was getting a queen mattress and box spring down the flight of stairs - and back up two flights. That experience brought back the traumatic memory moving in 4years ago. We even managed to match the scrapes against the ceiling on the way down. Oh, and I will gladly buy a nice bottle of wine for the first person to patent handles for mattresses (get your mind out of gutter, I'm talking about trying to hold on to the mattress while maneuvering it up/down stairs). Post edit: apparently there is a solution -of course I see this AFTER the fact. That said, not sure how it holds up when bending corners or going UP stairs. I'll keep my bottle of wine, then.

The first day or so after moving was tough for this creature of habit. My new house has 4 levels (including the garage) and it took more than a minute for me to figure out where I put things and what needed to go where. I was constantly looking through boxes trying to find whatever trivial thing I absolutely NEEDED that minute. For the love of all things good, where the %$#@ are my scissors!?!?!?

moving day 1869

There's an interesting article here - despite my whining above I'm thankful we aren't still living in these times.

My highlight of moving day was a surprise arranged at the end of the day. Prior to and while helping me move a certain someone coordinated with my closest friends to come over. Completely exhausted, beat up, frazzled, probably smelling like sweat and boxes (Yankee candle does not market that scent) I walked up the stairs to find them standing there with glasses of wine, balloons and fantastic hats fashioned out of newspaper comics (thanks to Claudette's creative young'uns.). After the long and sometimes frustrating day I couldn't have wished for a better way to welcome me home.

Thank you, much love and and more to each and every one of you. And to that certain someone- I wanted to throttle you a handful of times during the move and I'm sure it was mutual. Consider yourself forgiven.