First we filled a bazillion boxes, then the better part of a two car garage. After that we filled a storage unit we rent monthly (or “The Cottage” as I’ve come to think of it), then the largest Pod we could fit on our driveway. Next we stuffed every available square inch of every closet in the house. The spillover will eventually go with us to Travis and Audrey’s house. I’m sure they’re excited.
With John directing with his metal cane, his friend, along with his friend’s son and girlfriend, plus our always helpful son-in-law, helped me complete the physical move in less than 3 hours. You factor in the 5,958 hours I spent packing the boxes, and the total time spent accomplishing this astounding feat was only a short 254 days. At least it felt like it had been 254 days when, plastic cup of merlot in hand, I finally sat down with John in what was left of our living room last night. Surrounded by dusty corners, empty walls, unused boxes, and odds and ends of things that wouldn’t fit or didn’t belong, I took one last look around that dark and dated room, center of that dark and dated house, and in the immortal words of Curly Bill to Wyatt Earp offered this heartfelt toast: “Well…’bye.”
The construction crew started in this morning. Yeeeee-ha!
P.S. Regarding our cat Suzie, one of the guys who so kindly helped us move yesterday had this to say. “Yeah, I like cats. I just can’t eat a whole one.”
