there is
NOTHING TO SEE HERE
so what are you looking at?
What makes me happy
my wife
my son
writing
books
listening to music
comic books
movies
fantasy football
man's exploration of space
law & order
unemployment
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What I dislike
Working at uninteresting, unfulfilling, jobs
My wife on PMS (hey, at least I'm honest about it)
Ignorant people who are unwilling to learn
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One current obsession
Digital Video Creation
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Sequential artwork I've recently read
**** out of *****
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If I were single, here's who I'd like to ask out and inevitably be turned down by...
Sanaa Lathan
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Serialized television viewing
DEADWOOD
****1/2 out of *****
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Recent posts
Weird Home Stuff / More New Home Stuff / Lala.com
Sunday Morning Shuffle 6/25/2006: Ultimate Playlist
Graphic Novel Review: Blankets / Star / Octogenarian Murderess / Hump Me
African-Americans & A New Racism / Baseball iPods / Money & The Wife
Fight Club / Life Between Jobs / Homing In On Home
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Sites I visit regularly
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Reading or Read Recently
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Listening
***1/2 out of *****
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Cooler than a penguin's feet
Venus and Earth
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(most recent article on top, earlier articles on bottom)
July 08, 2006: 0152 hours
MOVE: THE OTHER FOUR-LETTER WORD
I haven't posted in a while, but this time I have a really good reason. A week ago, we closed on our new house and I've spent the past week moving our belongings, throwing papers every morning, and caring for my son every day as our daycare provider is on a one-week vacation. Getting back to the first item, moving was hell.
Where do I begin?
Let's start with the fact that after my mother deftly bailed out at the not-quite-the-penultimate moment, my sister graciously agreed to watch my son while we closed the house. The catch is that she lives forty minutes from us and fifty minutes from where the closing was to take place. No problem, we'll just leave two hours early to ensure we have enough time.
Enter stage left, Flat Tire. Yes, on the way to my sister's house, I noticed a loud rumbling emanating from under the car. I knew immediately what it was. I pulled over into the appropriately-named breakdown lane and was thankful that I built enough time into the schedule to accommodate the changing of the tire.
I hopped out of the car, amazed as I always am at how fast traffic moves on the highway when I myself am standing outside of the car a couple of yards from the nearest lane. Or, as I like to call it, the kill zone.
I open the trunk, lift the cardboard floor of the trunk, pull out the spare tire, and carry it to the front passenger tire which is flat. I return to the trunk for the jack and lug nut wrench. Oh oh. The jack is not there. I'm suddenly slammed with the recollection of removing my jack and putting it in my wife's car after noticing she had somehow misplaced her jack. Being the dutiful husband, I surrendered my jack so she would not be caught unprepared in the event of a flat tire, with the intention of buying a new jack for my car. In my eternal absentmindedness, I forgot to buy that jack and I was the one now caught unprepared.
Long story short, we called my sister who drove to pick us up, took us to her house, and loaned us her car to drive to the lawyer's office. The initial plan was for me to use her jack to change the tire, but because she drives a jeep her jack's lowest position is too tall to fit under my ground-hugging Honda. We kissed our boy goodbye at her home and headed for the lawyer's office, nearly an hour away with only thirty-five minutes until our appointment. We made it. We were thirty minutes late, but we made it. The lawyer zoomed through the closing, we signed the necessary papers, and left the office the proud new owners of a house.
We drove to the city where we live to pick up my jack out of my wife's car, then drove the thirty-five miles to my sister's house. Along the way, we stopped at my car so I could change the tire, then continued on to my sister's to return her Jeep and pick up our son. Surprisingly, my sister offered to keep our son overnight to make moving a little easier. Our son has never spent a night away from both his parents, but if any time was the right time for a first time, this was it. We hesitated slightly longer than a moment, then accepted the offer and headed back to the city of our home.
I spent the next couple of hours making repeat journeys between the old home and the new home, moving items that didn't require a truck. I broke that off around nine when I went to throw papers, which I did until seven in the morning.
When I finished my routes, I stopped to rent a U-Haul. I figured that it was seven in the morning on a holiday weekend and it would be a breeze to rent a truck. Wrong! A line of customers longer than the pre-internet days of Ticketmaster concert on-sale dates greeted me. Seriously, a queue of over two-dozen people stretched from the cash register, along the wall, and out the other door on the opposite side of the building. I turned around and went home, but not before hearing several customers complain that though they had made reservations there were no trucks available for them.
Again, long story short, we didn't secure a truck until five in the afternoon. I made numerous round-trips between our old-new homes, moving what I could in the car. Somehow, I snagged an hour's nap on the floor of our new living room while my wife and her sister (who'd traveled 90 minutes to help us settle in) decorated and such.
Two friends helped me move, and after three trips in the U-Haul truck we had moved nearly everything that required a truck. There were a couple of large items remaining, but nothing that would affect the quality of my wife's first night in our new home. I planned to move the remaining large items the next morning after the paper route. At this point it was nearly midnight, so I took my helpers home, returned to the new house, and grabbed an hour's nap before it was time for the route.
Following the route, I went to the old house to break down my desk and clear my comic book box shelving unit (built out of two-by-fours) of it's twenty-five heavy long boxes to prepare for moving. It was eight o'clock at that time and I figured that I had just enough time to do that, drive to the new house to pick up the U-Haul, return to the old house and load those items on the truck, drive to the new house and unload them, and get the U-Haul back to the station by ten.
I sat in the home office of my old home, and stared at the desk and comic book boxes. Neither task seemed like something I wanted to tackle after going sixty hours with only a total of approximately five hours of sleep. I concocted a new plan: return the U-Haul, then return my tired ass to the new home and surrender my body the tender caresses of slumber. And that's what I did.
Well, I returned the U-Haul anyway. However, when I got back to the new home, I couldn't ignore the masses of boxes and their siren pleas to be opened and emptied. Sometime that day, I still can't quite pinpoint when, I got a bit of sleep amidst all the moving of boxes, possessions, and furniture.
Still to come, the sudden death of our eight-year old refrigerator after only three days in our new home. And the discovery that though we thought we'd bought a house at 1612 XYZ Street, we actually lived at 1616, and though there is no 1612 the mailman refuses to deliver my mail and insists in returning to sender all our mail until the post office processes our change of change of address -- oh, what shall become of the five Lala.com cds that are en route to me? Further, we are experiencing issues with . . . well, I'd better save something for next time. Right now, it's time for me to go back to work, such as it is.
I'd forgotten what a pain in the ass moving can be. Still, for all the frustrations, large and small, nothing can detract even one bit the joy of living in a new (to us) house, a better-maintained house, OUR house.
I can take everything as long as we have this house. Whatever happens, I'll handle it and we'll prosper in our own fashion.
It feels good to be home, even with all the work that remains and all the expenditures that threaten to drive me insolvent.
nothing to see here
Overworm is a writer available for work and/or agent representation. I write mysteries, tales of suspense, and African-American fiction. I also write articles for web and print, and marketing collateral.
nothing to see here