On Moving


Warning: This post contains a good deal of whining. If you’re low on spoons, feel free to skip, there’s not much profound here.


My role in this move is limited. Intentionally so, thanks to my disabilities and, let’s be honest, in greater part thanks to the fact that I have the upper body strength of a diseased infant. (I go to the gym. I exhaust myself working with weights around what I weighed at birth. The waiting for my muscles to slowly grow is the hardest part). Most of the heavy lifting will be done  by Chaos and Kae and a new friend, let’s call him Fluttershy because he’s a brony and adorably naive. I’m in charge of organizing the move, making sure we don’t forget things like forwarding addresses, and cleaning the old place so we don’t lose our deposit. Fluttershy is going to help where needed, and Chaos and Kae are doing the furniture lifting.

Today is moving day 0, the eve of moving day. I reserved a truck in advance for the whole weekend; today my first job was to come home from work, pick up Chaos, take him to the Uhaul, and let him go get Kae and Kae’s stuff.

I forgot my phone at home. Strike one.

There was traffic on the way home, the kind of insanity that happens when apparently everyone just decided today was a great day to drive 10mph on the freeway. The left two lanes, where I always drive on the way home because I have to keep left at the fork and if I zone out and miss it I’ll be hopelessly lost, were stop and go for miles. The right lanes? Clear and free. I figured it had to be a trap. There had to be an accident up on the right so everyone was merging left hence the traffic. Nope. Chuck Testa. I drove the whole way in bumper to bumper traffic watching the lane to my right continue to be empty until everyone suddenly woke up and drove 50 again. It was surreal. It took me almost an hour to drive a half hour commute.

With Chaos in my passenger seat, we set out for the uhaul place, following GlaDOS (my GPS)’s fascinating and roundabout instructions. On the way, however, the music was interrupted by an emergency weather alert: thunderstorms capable of creating tornadoes. Not here on our route, but nearby. Great. Fantastic. It was just then starting to rain. By the time we got to the uhaul place, it was hard enough to bother me.

So we get inside. They found my reservation right off, all the details correct, Chaos added as a second driver, no problem, just need to see my ID, and that’ll be $25 more than I budgeted for. Wait what? Apparently there’s extra fees the website doesn’t tell you about. Fuck me. I wish we could just trade in Chaos’ SUV for a pickup and use that instead, but no, Kae has bedroom furniture and a 45 minute haul from his old residence. Plus our couch is kind of big.  We have house-sized furniture crammed into a tiny apartment as-is, without tossing in Kae’s stuff (thankfully the new place is larger).

Okay, so I put it on the credit card and figure out how to pay that off later. The sign says the trucks seat three! I can come with to Kae’s place instead of sitting at home alone panicking about lightning and tornadoes and slow-moving metal deathtraps! Oh wait. The truck only has two seats. Fine print says you can fit three in the larger truck but not the tiny one we rented. Wonderful.

With Chaos dispatched, my next order of business was to head to the grocery store. I’m low on gas, but I manage to find my way back to local territory and put $20 of gas in my car and head inside. I realize I have no idea if we have dinner for tonight, so I call Chaos. He misses his turn because he’s talking to me. So now I feel awful. I gather up the stuff, aghast at how much lunch meat costs (seriously, wtf?), and go to check out. While in line, I check my bank balance.

It says I only have $40 free. I thought I had about $100 more than that. (It turns out this is a lie. It’s counting a bill that we’ll have put more money in before it’ll come due and it’s glitched my automatic savings rule. I’m fine.) So after that mini heart attack, I pay on my credit card. Of course, I’m at a self-check and I’ve only just finished paying when someone behind me starts scanning, so I have to bag my things up quickly (usually Chaos and I go together and one of us scans while the other bags). As I’m bagging, it’s getting heavy, but I cram everything into my canvas bags and into the cart and back out into the rain I go.

I can barely lift the bags into my trunk.

I re-shuffle things so the drinks are in two bags and the food in one, fumble with the net that’ll stop my glass bottles from being smashed all to hell, crawl into my car (now in quite a lot of pain), and start crying.

I just don’t have the spoons for this. And worst part is, step three was to go home, finish packing (we’re nowhere near done), and make dinner. And I just can’t. I can’t even get the groceries into the apartment thanks to the stairs in my way. I call Chaos again in tears and he tells me it’s perfectly fine to leave the drinks in the trunk, just go home and take it easy.

So I’m on the couch taking it easy with a snack (because maybe I’m emotional because I’m hungry) and writing a blog post instead of being productive because if Chaos were here he’d tell me to sit the fuck down, they can take care of things. Only they can’t, I bring valuable talents to this trio and they need my guidance or they’ll overlook dozens of little things and drag this out twice as long and I’ll be in pain and exhausted and still have to keep going long after my body gives up. It’s going to be 100F and I overheat very easily and now there’s also thunderstorms and I’ve been limping all day thanks to physical therapy and we still have to get moved this weekend, full stop.

If I write more over the weekend it’ll probably be because Chaos or Kae told me to sit the fuck down, have a cold drink, and take it easy for a bit. I hate having nothing to do when there’s things to be done.

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2 Responses to On Moving

  1. smilodon says:

    Hugs from the internet.

  2. Pingback: On life | Raven Wings

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