I am sitting here surrounded by towers of boxes, piles of packing paper, and stacks of purposely placed "stuff." The house is growing smaller and smaller around me as every square inch is slowly filling up. It doesn't bother me though. Moving is old hat for my family We're used to it. Because of my husband's job in the Army, we have moved to thirteen duty stations and lived in fourteen houses. However, this move is different. My husband retired last week, after twenty-seven years of faithful service. This will be our last Army move —and hopefully, our last move for a long time.
Unlike all the others, this move is on our terms. There are no orders telling us where we have to go and there are no welcome events scheduled that will hail us into our new community. We are moving on a leap of faith and trusting that our next location is where we are supposed to go. Our next town will become our hometown, not just a place we will live for a few years. We are officially putting down roots. We are excited but also a little nervous, if we are being totally honest. Army life is all we have ever known. It helps that all three of our children will be in the same state for the first time in awhile (one adult, one college senior, one still at home.) The move is also sweetened exponentially by the fact that we will only be thirty minutes away from our sweet grandson!
After so many moves, I feel I can confidently say my husband and I are experts at relocating. We have a system for preparing to move that works for us. He is responsible for prepping everything outside, including the garage, shed, yard, porch, and deck. I am responsible for prepping the inside of the house. Years ago, we adopted a divide and conquer strategy with clearly designated jobs. It's better for us this way. We can cover more territory quickly and stay out of each other's way. As stress begins to mount, as it does before every move, staying out of each other's way is imperative. We each have carefully crafted to-do lists that we take seriously.
My husband feels the need to pressure wash everything we have that isn't nailed down in his "outside territory." He is completely convinced that if he doesn't, the movers will surely put dirty yard tools or patio furniture covered with yellow pollen on top of our living room couch when they load the truck. He is so sure this will happen that he spends days, usually in intense heat, blasting every speck of dirt into the next dimension. But, because of his efforts, we will never know what terrible thing might happen if our sofa made acquaintance with a dirty lawn chair. I am positive that we have the cleanest yard stuff in America every time we move.
I like to prep the inside of the house to make it easier for me on the other end. I want to unpack quickly and with great efficiency. It becomes my life's mission to make sure that boxes make sense. Everything needs to be located in a place that will ensure it gets packed alongside like items. This means I have to move stuff around incessantly. I don't want to open a box at my new house and find four towels, a random Christmas ornament that was overlooked last December, two mismatched socks, and a box of school supplies. A box like that might effect the Earth's equilibrium and create universal havoc. It also makes me grumpy.
I also like to gather all picture frames and knick-knacks from around the house and put them in one place before the first packer arrives. I don't want to deal with them until all necessary utilitarian items have been unpacked first. Towels, dishes, and clothes come first. Decor comes last. Duh, right?
I also painstakingly locate everything that can't be packed by the professionals, like candles and open bottles of syrup and stow them safely out of reach of the packers. I don't want them accidentally thrown into a box with my clean linens.
Moving also gives me a reason to check all expiration dates on medicine bottles and pantry items. I don't need Tylenol that expired in 2004 moving with me. Although, I must admit, something always evades me no matter how careful I am. While prepping for this move, I found a bottle of Flexall 454 that expired in 1997. I have apparently been moving it around for more than twenty-five years! The ninja muscle cream, which we obviously don't use, finally failed to avoid capture and was tossed into the trash. It had a good run.
My husband and I make a lot of work for ourselves that probably isn't necessary, but it makes us feel better. It makes us feel in control. Placing all my underwear in Zip Lock bags so no one touches it makes me happy. Putting all my silverware in baggies so I don't feel like it needs to be washed when we unpack again isn't over the top. Is it?
We have gotten so efficient that we usually only need about five days to get ready and about three days to set up our new house. This time though, I expect it will take us longer to get settled. We won't want to just put something random in the "weird corner" (every house seems to have at least one) and make due. Since we will be in our house for the long haul, we need to find the "perfect thing" to put in the weird corner. We need to take our time. We are also a little older this move and our bodies have endured quite a bit since our last move. We will feel every ounce of our 17,000 pound weight allowance in our knees, back, feet, and rib cages. When we lay down exhausted after a day of unpacking, we will be reminded why it was time to retire.
Despite all our preparations, a few things have gone wrong from time to time over the years. In Louisiana, after a grueling afternoon of pressure washing our children's play equipment in 102 degree heat, my husband carefully laid it in the driveway to dry. We left our on post quarters for five minutes, only to return to an empty driveway. It was somehow mistaken for trash by the bulk garbage collector (how, we still don't know—it wasn't near the street and the pieces were neatly arranged by size by my Type A hubby). We had to chase said garbage collector down and retrieve forty-six pieces from his giant trailer of trash (that hadn't been pressure washed). This made my husband very grumpy. I will never forget the look on his face when the garbage collector tried to "help us" by throwing our freshly cleaned pieces into a mud puddle.
Another time, the Army transportation office at Fort Campbell arranged for packers, but forgot to hire a truck. When the problem was discovered, they resolved the issue by hiring a small mom and pop moving company out of Florida who was willing to come up to Tennessee that day, load us, and then turn around and deliver to us at MacDill AFB in Tampa, Florida the next day. They had never done a military move. They showed up with multiple U-Hauls and had no idea they were supposed to do an inventory or bring packing supplies.
After a hectic and disorganized day of loading (and dismay when they strapped our flat screen TV into the front seat of a U-Haul because they didn't have the right kind of box), I drove down to Florida at a breakneck pace to make sure I beat the truck. Little did I know, I could have taken my time. They didn't show up until ten pm at night. They got delayed waiting on gas money to be wired to them via Western Union from their company (you can't make this stuff up.)
Even though it was ridiculously late, they were hellbent on unloading the U-Hauls right then and there. Two of the crew members were so tired they asked me if they could take a shower in our master bathroom to wake up. I don't know why I agreed, but I did. I was caught off-guard by their request and I gave a panic response. It was definitely awkward standing in my new front yard in the middle of the night while strangers took turns showering inside.
Another time, on a move from South Carolina to Virginia, the wrong truck showed up at our house with someone else's stuff. That was fun. It had already taken them fourteen days to make the six hour trip. What's another day of sleeping on air mattresses and using a cooler for a coffee table at that point?
I could go on and on, but I need to go offer our packer some Gatorade. The one guy who is here is working very hard.
Hopefully, this move, our last move, goes swimmingly. If not, we will have one more story to add to our collection and one more memory from our time as an Army family. Despite all the work it takes to move and the trials and tribulations we have experienced along the way, I know I'm gonna miss this lifestyle. It's been quite the ride.
Tell me your funny moving stories in the comments below! Until next week, my friends!
תגובות