Tuesday, July 29, 2008

Packing it up (Moving Days 2)

On the morning of our move, the wife took off for work, leaving Sadie and I behind to deal with the movers and everything that might entail. Around 9a, a big truck pulled up in front of the house and three skinny guys got out. They looked a lot like the hillbillies roofers the landlord had work on our house a while back.

"What's goin' on?" one of them asked.

"Oh, nothing much," I said. "Just a house full of stuff... to pack up... and move..." I added. And though this might seem terribly obvious information to convey to a trio of movers, I'd said it because in the back of my mind I still harbored the fear that they would somehow be expecting everything to already be packed and ready for loading. After all, why else would the moving company send only three guys to pack up an entire house? And looking at them, I couldn't help but think There's no way in hell you three are packing up my entire house in two days let alone the one day I was told it would take. Impossible.

Yet, when I ushered them into the house they seemed nonplussed by all the stuff yet unpacked. So far so good, I guessed.

Before they could even begin the job, another truck arrived with three more movers, including Bud. I was relieved. With only a couple of greeting exchanges, Bud and his crew started in on it and began packing up our shit. And so as to stay the hell out of their way, Sadie and I retreated to my office where I proceeded to pack up a few last minute odds and ends and get some blogging done.

Other than occasional questions from Bud and the crew, that was pretty much my involvement in the whole process. I poked my head out once in a while to let the dog potty and see what progress had been made. Each time I did, another room was all but gone. I was especially impressed by the gentleman packing up our kitchen, who was clearly taking a great deal of care with each of our dishes so that they were not broken. (What we wouldn't learn for a few days is that in taking such care, he also carefully packed up our butter dish, that had been sitting out on the counter, with butter still inside.)

Still, part of me felt like I wasn't doing enough. I didn't know if it was standard protocol for the homeowner to supply snacks and beverages, so I decided to err on the side of not having a box of my stuff dropped "accidentally," and Sadie and I went to the store for soft-drinks and Rice Crispie treats. While I was out, I swung by the "liberry" to let Sadie visit with her other family a bit more before we left town.

Back at the house, however, Sadie was of no help at all. She wanted to be out and underfoot, so I kept having to haul her back into the office until I finally had to put her in her crate for a long nap.

The guys worked solidly from 9:30a to around 3:30p by which time almost every single one of our possessions had been packed away and stacked within their vans. I had to give them credit for it, because I didn't think it could be accomplished in a day, let alone six plus hours. The only things they left behind were couch cushions and bedding on which the wife would sleep (as she still had to go to work the following morning and had opted to stay around and clean), some cleaning supplies and room after room of dust. It was an embarrassing amount of dust, really, and spoke to our distaste for doing anything about it. So as not to cause the wife to have a heart attack upon seeing it, I went ahead and vacuumed the floors (giving Sadie something to do, as she enjoys nothing better than chasing the vacuum nozzle and barking ferociously).

After finishing that, I loaded as many of our houseplants into the car as I could fit, took a few last minute pictures and then Sadie and I hit the road for Borderland.

(TO BE CONTINUED...)

3 comments:

Connie said...

I once had them pack an ashtray full of butts. Nicely wrapped in paper before they put it in the box.

Anonymous said...

I've heard tell of packing trash.

The.Effing.Librarian said...

I think my girlfriend had bottled water and a 3 ft. sub sandwich for the movers (that they didn't eat).


An employee of a small town "liberry" chronicles his quest to remain sane while dealing with patrons who could star in a short-lived David Lynch television series.