Moving day! Abort mission!

Moving day hit about a thousand snags. For starters, I'm still writing this from the 'old' house. :P


First there was the little issue of packing. I tried pretty hard (I'd have said my best but that would've been a lie and a half) to get things packed and moved off of/away from the furniture during my week off. I thought I'd managed to whittle it down so that other people could pick up the slack and bam! A few trips to the Goodwill to get rid of the stuff we no longer want/need but that other people might and maybe a day's worth of serious packing and we'd be set for the movers.

Yeaaaaaaaaah. That never happened. No one picked up the slack and just about everything I didn't do didn't get done. The stuff I uncovered? Got covered. Despite the fact that the boy was here more often than he wasn't all week long, he didn't do a damn thing to help pack, nor did he help anyone else. I think the most I saw him do was during panic crunch time last night I got him to stack two of our smaller bookcases on top of one another in an effort to get some extra space out of the deal. He then kinda ruined the effect by moving the double stack closer to the boxes thus eliminating the whole space thing but hey...

Anyway. Mom and I were up until 4am or so packing and trying to clear things and wondering why we always do this and berating ourselves but then trying not to and it's just a mess. But we finally 'found' all the furniture downstairs, although some boxes would have to be switched around during moving time. Mom's stuff needed boxes moved off of it but no big deal, right? They'd be downstairs for awhile...


Yeah. About that. Mom talked to the people in the office twice about the move. The first time they gave her some ungodly quote and I seriously considered laughing before I started to cry. Then Mom asked, "Well, what about just the furniture?" and repeated what that would be and where in the house it was located versus where it was going to end up. She and the office ladies discussed things and then came to the consensus that without boxes aside from the china ones maybe, they could do the job in three hours. Factor in the cost of them just showing up and that's $500.

Which is painful, but I figured it was worth it not to have to worry about breaking my brother's back and hearing him bitch for the next 70 years or until one of us died and then praying I'd go first because otherwise he'd haunt me just to bitch about the whole thing from ~beyond~.


FF to this morning and the movers come in and immediately things go south. It starts pouring as they arrive (I kid you not, as soon as they turned into our little part of the neighborhood, the skies opened up) and then they say they're here for a 5-7 hour move.

Ummmmmm... no? We had a three hour move scheduled. That takes some back and forth and when they ask what we want moved, I answer and they start laughing and it's things like this that make me realize that social anxiety should totally be a legitimate reason for murder. They go on about how there's no way, no how, not gonna happen. Just to pack up the stuff would take three hours, minimum.

Mom's less than pleased, I'm trying to stay polite but not super doormat-like because this is enough to start a migraine I'm pretty sure will last well into August. Mom and the supervisor kinda dude keep going round and round on things and I continue to hate the phrase, "I'm going to be real with you."


If it weren't for the fact that they showed up today and not yesterday, I'd assume the second conversation was never entered into their notes or whatever, but clearly it was since the day was switched.

Eventually we hammered out a tentative cease-fire. Move the friggin' heavy stuff or as much of it as you can before the first hour/hour and forty-five minutes wears out. This basically included the huge-ass tv downstairs, Mom's headboard, Mom's armoire, the bookcases in the hallway, and most of Mom's bedroom furniture aside from her bed. Oh and two of the three hope chests and my dresser which has most of my clothes. The beds didn't make the move party due to time and partly due to Widget's bed being a captain's bed and those they aren't allowed to take apart to move and Widget lied about taking his pill and was incredibly unhelpful. When I asked him to help me move it out from the wall so we could take it apart, he basically flung himself on the bed and said there was no point, they couldn't move it, they'd never be able to move it, everything sucks and he's never doing this again and would. not. move.

Yeah. Not helpful in the slightest. Time runs out and we head to the new place where Mom drops us off to run back home and lock the doors.

She's gone for the entire move in, which took about 45 minutes at the absolute most. By the time she comes back, everything was in the house. Woo? She did have them move a couple of things around but that was about it. She signed and it came out to $479 after various additional fees were tacked in despite the website's claim that there are no additional fees and the office lady's assurances that there were no additional fees. (Clearly the move in took way less time than the move out which is what we told them but hey, who believes me, right?)

We collapse on the couch while Widget runs upstairs to begin the joy that is having the best room in the house.

It takes me another hour to summon up the strength to go upstairs and see what they did with my two items.

"But, Impy, why so tired? You hired moving guys, remember? They did all the heavy lifting!"

Ah, but you forget I had to work Friday night and since we had to do the frantic mad-dash pack and get ready for the movers on Saturday, I was up most of Saturday cleaning the nasty carpet in my new room (the stains were/are nasty, the carpet is plush and fabulous) and trying to figure out if the AC in the new place was borked or if I was just really hot from the carpet cleaning. (AC is borked.)

Soooo.. I was operating on a max of 7 hours over two days AND I'm the one who ran around this morning getting shit out of the movers' way so they wouldn't eat up more of their precious time moving stuff around rather than moving stuff out.

I'm aware some people would kill for 7 hours of sleep over two days (hello, new parents!) but if it helps, the last three and a half were kind of a waste because I was at that "so tired/exhausted, can't sleep" stage.

I head upstairs only to find they didn't take the shrink wrap off my stuff. o_O I... I don't understand. Widget asked them not to do so on his piece of furniture but I sure as hell didn't say that for mine, k?

So Widget and I have to move my dresser and my trunk (which is really light, who knew?) into place. This forces me to reconfigure where I'm going to want the rest of my furniture when it makes the move.

We drop Widget off here to clean off the vents so the a/c here isn't borked and then we get food because no one had eaten either.

Then I pass out only to wake up with a raging headache that has lessened considerably but is still most unpleasant. Widget and I went swimming and as far as I can tell, no one's done any additional packing.

Woo.

God, I hate moving.

But I do love that couch and it's nice to see the new house coming together.

I think I'm going to pass out again since four hours is really not sleep.