I got, not three French hens, but rather Two Men and a Truck. Actually, I lucked out and got two sets of two men and a truck each. I had the hired moving company PLUS a friend and a brother and a Big Red Truck (an actual vehicle, as opposed to a wine of questionable vintage, although by mid-day, even a self-consciously trendy wine who owes more to its clever label than actual quality would have been a good thing).
By 7:30 a.m., I had not only showered and got Dear Daughter underway, but had cooked breakfast, started hauling boxes from the attic and organized three boxes for Goodwill. At 9:30, the movers called to say they were done loading up my tenant, so we (the brother, the daughter, the co-worker and I) pointed our caravan (BRT and a mini-van) laden with boxes and bookcases north towards home.
All told, the move went remarkably well--way better than I could ever have imagined. By 3 p.m., we had all of my furniture and 90% of my packed boxes moved. I still have some packing to do (closet stuff), but the big stuff is out of the way. My favorite moment was when the amazing Arlando walked past me, single-handedly pushing my piano, which was turned UPSIDE-DOWN and strapped to a dolly. Of all the men the company could send me, they picked THE MAN.
My least favorite moment was discovering the condition in which my tenant left my house. Heavy sigh. Tomorrow will be spent cleaning around the furniture. I already scraped the top layer of grease off of the cooktop and tile backsplash, and made the bath tile clean enough I might actually use the shower in a day or two. We've vacuumed the entire house for the first time. Tomorrow, a crew consisting of my self, Dear Daughter, the head of the Mathematics department at a prestigious local private academy, and her two bond-servants (pronounced "children") will attack the house armed with Murphy's Oil Soap, oven cleaner and lemon Pledge. By day's end, I hope to have not only rendered the house habitable, but also have explained to my former tenant in exacting detail precisely why her deposit is forfeit.
Anyway, we're winding down here. A wonderful thing about hard physical work is how pleasant by contrast it makes rest and sleep. But first, I have one more task to complete...we realized that all of our clothes are at OUR house, but WE are still here, so I am washing and drying laundry so we'll have something clean to wear tomorrow. It never ends, but really, I'm not complaining. We're going home. We have wonderful, dear friends and family (Mom, Pat, Number One Brother, MCBA, Fineoldfamly, JennyMc, E) and things are gradually returning to normal. Life is good, and getting better by the day.
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Have elbow grease; will travel.
... and what else can I say? I empathize, I'm walking down much the same path, and I know the importance of each layer of moving. Sometimes I wish the symbolic and the actual (packing/moving/cleaning/etc) weren't quite so parallel, but the journey is a good one even if not always clear.
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