The last time I moved, in August, I was almost completely ready to go when N. and S. arrived at my 4th floor studio. The boxes were packed, and the gooey chocolate birthday cake was on the counter. The only thing left was taking the bed apart. The single flaw was the elevator: it took us many, many trips down the elevator and through the parking garage to get everything into the truck and trailer.
When everything was loaded up, we drove two hours down the highway and took everything out in under thirty minutes. We had plenty of time to eat cake and stop at the go-karts on the way back. (N. and S. raced around the track, while my car... putted. Slowly. I could not get it to speed up, even with the pedal to the floor while S. and N. lapped me. Near the end, it went slower and slower and started sputtering. I think it was out of fuel.)
This time, all was chaos when A. and M. arrived at my tiny used-to-be-a-garage apartment. Virtually nothing was packed, but there was a sour cream coffee cake on the counter. We made trek after trek with M.'s mom's truck, and even more with just the cars. We took the bed apart, again, and tried to stuff the dresser into the trunk of an aged Honda. We carried boxes jammed with random objects that tilted off precariously as we walked.
It's almost done, though. I have a bed set up here, and the cleaning started there, and A. and I got a movie and sprawled out in the living room, the new living room, the one that has enough space to move and breathe and have guests.
Guests! Come on over!
When everything was loaded up, we drove two hours down the highway and took everything out in under thirty minutes. We had plenty of time to eat cake and stop at the go-karts on the way back. (N. and S. raced around the track, while my car... putted. Slowly. I could not get it to speed up, even with the pedal to the floor while S. and N. lapped me. Near the end, it went slower and slower and started sputtering. I think it was out of fuel.)
This time, all was chaos when A. and M. arrived at my tiny used-to-be-a-garage apartment. Virtually nothing was packed, but there was a sour cream coffee cake on the counter. We made trek after trek with M.'s mom's truck, and even more with just the cars. We took the bed apart, again, and tried to stuff the dresser into the trunk of an aged Honda. We carried boxes jammed with random objects that tilted off precariously as we walked.
It's almost done, though. I have a bed set up here, and the cleaning started there, and A. and I got a movie and sprawled out in the living room, the new living room, the one that has enough space to move and breathe and have guests.
Guests! Come on over!
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