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I feel like I’ve been through the wringer – mentally, physically, emotionally – the last two months have been one of the most challenging periods in my life. At the end of June we moved out of our house in San Miguel, and put everything we had accumulated over the year into storage. We also started buying some furniture in preparation for moving into an unfurnished house a few blocks away.
Then we headed to Framingham to deal with our house there. We bought the house in 1999, and between the accumulated belongings and the constant maintenance a 1927 house needs, it has been feeling like an elephant sitting on my shoulders. We spent most of our spare time for more than a month sorting, purging, packing, and donating (while I also worked at my “day job” and spent time with friends and family). More on all of this later, but in a nutshell, we had decided to bring some of our favorite belongings to San Miguel and rent the house in Framingham.
Fast forward to this week. We had a 16-foot Penske truck reserved for Sunday pick-up. On Saturday, Penske called to say that the truck had been returned to the wrong location, and that location wasn’t open on Sundays. We could come and pick it up within the next 2 hours, or they would leave the keys over the visor for us to pick it up Sunday. Maybe it’s just my lack of experience driving trucks, but I felt like there should be some instructions or something, no?
By the time we got to Penske on Saturday, it was 5 minutes after closing time so the keys were over the visor. No instructions, no helpful hints, tips, tricks…off we went. Ben was driving the truck and I was leading in our trusty Honda Pilot. We had no problems during the 17-mile drive back to the house, and “pick up the truck” was checked off the list.
On Monday, the movers showed up at noon to help us load up. Since I didn’t know what would fit on the truck, I had devised a system of color-coding boxes and furniture so our favorite stuff went on the truck first, and the less-favorite went last or not at all if we ran out of space. Meanwhile, the garage was filling up with bins of stuff that need further sorting and purging.
When the movers arrived, the house was FULL of stuff – there was stuff everywhere. I’m sure they were like, “How the heck are we supposed to know what stays and what goes??” I made them a list, gave them a tour, and explained my colored post-it note system. They (Harry and Jim) were so kind and wonderful – if they had negative thoughts they kept them quiet. Jim gave me several pep-talks throughout the afternoon (“You’re doing great!”), and by 5ish the truck looked like a high-scoring game of Tetris.
After the truck was loaded, the house was STILL full of stuff. All day Tuesday was spent trying to get the remaining stuff into the donate pile, the “later” pile stored in the garage, or the trash pile. A few more boxes went on the truck. This continued on Wednesday, and I was over it. Throwing things out became a lot easier for me, but Ben still struggled with that. Last night I hit the wall around 8, and laid on the floor (we had no beds) in the fetal position until Elizabeth came to the attic and revived me with Diet Coke. Looking around the house last night I broke the news to Aliya that it didn’t look like we’d be able to leave today. There was still too much stuff.
The other problem was that I started obsessing about how much weight was in the truck. It is packed TIGHT. We took off some books and put on some lighter boxes of bedding. I Googled weights of various pieces of furniture, I calculated the weight-per-cubic-foot of different box contents. I checked to see what would happen if we drove the truck overloaded. Would we get a ticket? Would the tires pop, or the overheated brakes catch on fire? I finally stopped thinking about it when I passed out from exhaustion.
It amazes me that each morning I wake up with renewed energy to tackle whatever task I had given up on the night before. I woke up just after Penske opened, and called to see about weighing the truck. The guy I spoke to had no concerns whatsoever about what we had on the truck. The closest public scale was an hour away, so it wasn’t feasible to run down and see if we had a problem.
Suddenly, it was all-systems-go again. We jammed the rest of the stuff into boxes and bags, stuffed our sweaty bodies and the cat into the vehicles, and started driving – Ben and Adlani in the Penske truck, and Aliya, Norah, and I in the Pilot. By the time we got everything in, it was 3 p.m. – not my preferred departure time by far, but I sensed that everyone just needed to start the trip. It was exhilarating to drive away and know that we were DONE with that huge job…at least until we go back to take care of the garage at some point.
We made it as far as Scranton, Pennsylvania, after driving through probably the most torrential downpours I’ve ever driven in, complete with blindingly white lightning, hydroplaning, deer hazards, and tandem trucks swamping me. The truck did just fine – Ben had no problems driving it and was able to go at a pretty good clip. Because of the cat and the last-minute reservation, we are at a not-so-nice Days Inn. Hopefully we can sleep for a few solid hours and then continue on…we’re shooting for Knoxville, Tennessee tomorrow night.