19 October 2016

On the Enumeration of Unhatched Poultry, and Other Such Nonsense

Ah, October 1st, that exciting day.  We were all packed and ready to go - in fact, we finished early and had time to sit around talking about how we'd planned to decorate our new space.  A moving truck was going to show up n the morning of the 1st, whisk away our things, and by that evening we'd be happily neck-deep in unpacking and beginning to make our new home beautiful.

What actually happened was this:
  • The moving company underestimated somehow, and sent us a truck that was too small.  The actual movers were fabulous to work with - they even called to see about getting a second truck to help out, but none were available.
  • When we got to the house at noon on the 1st, the floor tilers were still at it, and we couldn't go INTO the house - at all.  The movers packed our things into the garage, and a few pieces of furniture were left out in the driveway.  We camped out in the driveway and waited.  Turns out, the tilers would be there late into the night, and there was no way we were getting inside the house - except for the master bedroom, which was not being done that day, and which has a sliding glass door that opens into the backyard.  A couple of friends came over, and we all carried everything from the driveway around to the backyard and into the master bedroom; after that we went to their house for dinner and a shower, and then back to the old place to sleep on air mattresses for the night. Thankfully, by the next night, the bedrooms were finished and we could begin to sleep there.
  • It would be nearly two weeks before the rest of the floors would be finished.  The work crew was actually great - they did an awesome job, and were really friendly and fast. It took a while to get the job done because the crew was on loan from a construction job - the foreman is a cousin of my landlady's - so their availability was sporadic, is all.  Still, until there was a floor in the kitchen or laundry room, the stove was unhooked - we couldn't cook.  Also, there was a problem with the gas shutoff valve on the clothes dryer - we couldn't do laundry until a plumber could come out and replace the valve so that we wouldn't all, you know, die in a fiery explosion. 

However, as of Sunday morning, the entire floor in the entire house was finished, hooray! We've spent the last few days beginning to arrange the house - and finally, after two weeks, now that our stuff is beginning to fill up the place, it's finally starting to feel like home. the only problem is...where the hell is our stuff??

Here's the thing: although we labeled our boxes according to which room they were to go in, we completely omitted labeling the boxes with what was inside them - I mean, why bother, right? We were going to be unpacked in a day or two, and all the boxes, so helpfully labeled by room, would be deposited by the movers right where they go - we were only going to have to open them and empty them.  Tada! 

So, for the last couple of days I've continually kept markers and pens clipped to my shirt, knowing that anything I open (a) could be anything, and (b) probably isn't the thing I'm looking for, but (c) needs to be LABELED so that the next time I go looking for something, it won't take me as long to find it. I'm pretty sure I've opened every box in the house at least six times each. (Btw, cardboard cuts suck). At the moment my biggest Mystery!Box peeve is that while I've located and sorted all of my SCA garb, I'm missing one single box - which just happens to contain literally everything I need for an event I'm going to in two days. 
*sad trombone*

It's all been an extremely difficult and painful lesson in staying strong while being flexible.  It's [forcibly] expanded the limits of my ability to deal with stress, uncertainty, anger, frustration, panic, and despair.  It's expanded my physical limits, too.  The whole time this was all happening, I was also putting in about 20 hours a week working on the old house - painting, cleaning, landscaping, repairing things, climbing up and down ladders, replacing bits of the laminate floor - as well as moving everything I own around the new house at least four times each.  I almost wish I'd had one of those fitness tracker armbands through all of this - I'd love to know exactly how many squats I've done in the past two weeks.  (Interestingly, although maybe only to me, I hadn't ridden my bike since September 14th - and I ride nearly every day.  I was worried that 4+ weeks off the bike would have ruined the fitness level I'd previously built up; but when I got back in the saddle a few days ago I felt like I was actually in better shape than when I'd last ridden - probably because of all the squats!)

But the real moral of the story, kids, is LABEL YOUR BOXES.  Even if you think you don't need to, even if you're literally only putting them into your car and driving them three blocks away.  LABELS. 

1 comment:

  1. I actually made a manifest in Google Docs. (So I could access it from anywhere!)

    I put down a number and then listed anything that I put in that box. Then if I needed to find which box contained Forbidden Island, I knew which of the five boxes of board games it would be in.

    I also went so far as to write the box number on all four sides of the box so no matter how the were stacked I could see the number.

    Moving five times in four years will do this to you.

    OCD for the win!


Talk to me! But be nice. Trolls and a-holes will be publicly humiliated and then sent a dead fish in the mail. :o)