Moving Day

Well, we did it. We moved. The night before the move, I looked out the window to see that it was lightly snowing. But what's up with the weird light? I can assure you, the street lamps on my mom's block do not normally cast lime-Jello green light. It was so crazy, I of course had to run outside and snap a picture. (I took about 20 before I got one that was in focus enough. Night shots are so hard.)

There had been a momentary panic about the U-Haul truck. I was supposed to reserve it last week, but all I did was get the price quotes--the best deal was roughly $135.00 for a 14-foot truck, one-way rental, with just enough miles included that if we didn't sightsee along the way we'd be fine. The day before we were to pick up the truck, I typed the same information into the U-Haul web site and was getting a quote for $768.00!!! I almost stroked out right there. I assume it was some weird, screw-those-who-book-at-the-last-minute charges, but come on.

We could have put the move off to next week if we wanted to, but there was a certain satisfying symbolism to moving on Leap Day--we were taking a "leap of faith" and all that nonsense. But after playing with a few variables as to exact pickup location, I was able to get U-Haul to give me the previous quote. And what a badass truck we ended up with--love the Venus Flytrap on the side!

When we went to pick up the truck, another customer had barely beat us into the parking lot. She was dressed head to toe in what I'm going to call Fox Fur, because really, I have no clue what it is. She had an ankle-length coat, weird furry headpiece, and fur-trimmed boots; and if all that wasn't enough, she clutched in her very-well-manicured hand a matching purse made out of the same fur. She was there to pick up her $125,000 Mercedes. I kid you not on the price; that's what the U-Haul rental guy later told me it was worth. The crappy picture is from my cell phone.

When we walked into the office, she was screaming abuse into her cell phone, because whoever it was who was supposed to meet her there had the nerve to be late and leave her waiting. There was a lot of "That #$)(*$# kid, where the @#(@ is he?" and "Do you think I'm !%#(@# stupid? Do you think I'm like some dumb #@(!!$%&$% blonde?"

(Um, hello, blonde woman standing next to you.)

It was all we could do to keep straight faces as this woman, who had parked her Land Rover across not one, but two handicapped spots, was reading some poor soul the riot act. Seriously, if I am ever that bloody rich, I hope I will still have the grace not to air my personal b-s in public like that.

The actual move went fairly smooth, although, as usual, it took five times longer than anticipated. It was part bittersweet, part when the heck is this going to be over with? All of us were feeling a little melancholy, even Ted, who had only been living there these last four months. It didn't help with the half-melted snowman across the street kept looking at us with that sad, sad face.

We brought the U-Haul and mom's van full of stuff (our P.T. Cruiser we picked up the next day). By now, Ted and I kick butt at moving. We've done it numerous times now, moving stuff between storage units and what not.

We're kind of wondering what sort of neighborhood we've found ourselves in. It's very, very friendly, I'll give it that. But I'm not sure what to make of the woman who stopped in the middle of the intersection by our house, unrolled her car window, and took a picture of our building with her camera. Or the kid who photographed us with his camera phone. Neighborhood watch?

Anyway, we're more or less here. There are a few things left at Mom's house; she and I went over there to clean, and already it's feeling less and less like our place. Already, we're referring to The Box House as home, as in, "I'll meet you back at home" instead of "I'll meet you back at the house."

All in all, for having decided to close on a place and move in the middle of friggin' winter, it went okay.