Moving Day

Here’s a little insight into moving day:

6am. Realize that there is still a lot of little stuff in the bedroom that is unpacked so panic and hurl myself out of bed to get it packed leaving Mark in a daze of “what the hell are you doing??”s.

6:15am. Decide that it would be soooooo nice to sleep on clean sheets tonight – even if everything around me is completely covered in dust and unfinished – so obviously must throw sheets into the washing machine.

8am. Mark gets up and makes coffee.  Me – thinking we don’t have any mugs or cups or liquid holding containers of any kind thinks this coffee making business is a complete and utter waste of time and his time would be better suited walking to the corner to get us a proper cup of the liquid gold I require for pleasantries.  O no my friends.  Mark – actually saved out his two ugly mugs (one Pooh and one Bullwinkle.  I hate them both and wish they would mysteriously disappear or break.) just for this very occasion.  What a smart man.  I’ll take Pooh please and let’s pretend I don’t hate you.

8:30am. Contractor calls. Wrong fridge was ordered.  Wrong fridge shows up for delivery. Fridge order was cancelled.  Right fridge no longer available.  Fuck we have to pick out a new fridge.  Only have internet for another few moments so better spend at least 100 seconds researching, reading reviews, deciding.

8:35am. New fridge decided.  Contractor ordering.  Possibly.

9:30am. Movers are scheduled to arrive, but instead decide that calling at 9:30 to tell us they’re coming soon would obviously make more sense.

10:15am. Movers arrive.  Barrel through the house to see the goods and barely utter a sentence.  Truck loading begins.

10:17am. I’ll totally have time to switch the loads while the movers load so decide that towels are a good contender for the next load.

11:00am. After about 45 minutes of helping to load boxes (isn’t this what I hired movers for??)  Say fuck that and leave to go to new house to meet with granite man.  Granite man is an ass that likes to talk down to people.  “Feel this piece.  Now feel this piece.  See the difference?  OK that one is honed.  Can you say honed?  Hooonnnneeed.  Good girl.  Here’s a treat.”

Yeah screw that dude.  Whatever.  Get me my honed granite bitch and get it fast.

11:45am. Holy crap.  Movers are done with first load??  This wasn’t suppose to happen.  You were suppose to have a big truck and move everything at once and not be ready to move to the new place until the afternoon so that all the construction going on at the house would be done and there wouldn’t be a billion people in the house.  What the hell??  Shit.  Hurry back to old house to get stranded husband.  Race back to new house to tell movers where stuff goes.

12:45pm. Call from movers.  “Where do you live?”  (umm, have you been driving around town for the past hour with our stuff just calling out our names in the hopes that we might run out and tell you where to park because you actually found us this way??  WTF dude?)

1pm.  Movers show up.  (Obviously after a lovely lunch break.)  Refuse to move anything into the house because a) there are way too many people working in the house  (what, you can’t work around 2 electricians, 2 plummers, 6 cleaning crew, 2 contractors, 3 finish carpenters and Mark and I??)  b) the walls are all wet and c) they’re just way too fucking lazy to actually doooo anything.  Stuff gets unloaded into the fucking garage.  (Did I mention the 3 drywallers working in the garage??  Yeah.  Those guys that kick up about an Earth size ball of dust while they work.  Lovely.)

1:30pm. Movers and Mark go back to old house.  Round 2.  I field exactly 8.524 trillion questions from the people working on my house about all kinds of specific details.   Of which they had exactly .00001% right.  Apparently my carefully labeled and meticulously updated spreadsheet for every detail of this house remodel has gone unnoticed.  Or was used as toilet paper.  Or burned.  Jury is still out.

5pm. Umm where the hell are the movers?  Have they kidnapped my husband?  Can I at least get my furniture back?  A girl’s gotta sleep in a bed know what I’m sayin?

5:30pm. Movers and Mark show up.  More unloading of everything into the garage.  Breaking of large furniture pieces commences.  Screaming and yelling begins.  BabyBound cries.  Whole world ends.  Everyone dies.

6:30pm. Go to old apartment to pick up the children and some small little things remaining.  Feet fall off legs and decide to sit this one out.

6:15pm. Discover that while we were pretty specific when asking the MOVERS to move EVERYTHING from the apartment, they heard “move what you’d like, and leave the rest its fine.”  More crying, more yelling.  2 more fucking loads of back and fourth to new house begins.  Legs also decide to go on holiday.

7:30pm.  Damn it.  The laundry.  Fuck.

9:30pm.  Die.  Take shower (if you can call it that right now)  Go to bed.  In that order precisely.


6 Responses to “Moving Day”

  1. 1 The Milk Maid May 2, 2008 at 5:13 am

    Makes me so glad I’m stuck right here and I don’t ever have to move… 😛

  2. 2 meg May 2, 2008 at 6:42 am

    Ha – this makes me remember why I don’t like moving 🙂 I hope your day today goes better!

  3. 3 b May 2, 2008 at 7:14 am

    I am almost sorry that I laughed at your pain. Almost.

  4. 4 Emily May 2, 2008 at 1:33 pm

    Ouch. Moving is an evil biiiitttccchh!

    Hope settling in is easier… and you find your legs alive and well again!

  5. 5 singletracey May 2, 2008 at 2:12 pm

    OMG.. I fucking hate hate hate moving!! I hope today is going a bit better..

  6. 6 geohde May 3, 2008 at 7:49 pm


    I hate housemoving.


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