A Moving Experience

Everyone says -- and knows -- that moving is stressful. Yet I thought that, since I was finally leaving John's house and getting a place of my own, it would be different this time. Ha.

I left Deb's on a Monday in late September (let's just say I did, as I don't feel like checking to see if I actually did), looked at apartments on Tuesday and Wednesday, filled out an application and handed over a deposit by Thursday, and arranged to move in the first week of October. I was supposed to be in Ventura, packing up and getting ready. But there was something Deb could use my help with (she didn't ask me to drive back up, but I didn't like thinking about it not getting done until I came back), and so I rearranged my scheduled to work an additional two weeks and then go back and pack and move all at once. Yes, I came up with that brilliant plan all on my own. Just pack and move. All at once. In a couple of days. No, no, it's okay, I can laugh about it now -- maniacally.

So I drove back to Ventura, packed until I ran out of boxes, then resorted to putting my clothes in big, black garbage bags. I muttered, "Yes, Mom, I know they make wardrobe boxes specifically for this, but I don't have time to go buy them and I'll never do it again and aren't you busy with other things up there in Heaven, like finally having the perfect garden or something?" Luckily John is hard of hearing. I muttered many things and most of them made me sound as crazy as I felt. Your stuff grows exponentially as the time nears to put it in the rental truck.

When I went to rent the U-haul, the 10' truck looked too small. I asked if I could have a 12' one instead. They didn't have a 12'. They had the 10' or something that looked like a big rig. I sighed and said I'd take the 10'. This was Thursday at noon. The man told me that if I didn't return the truck by 6:00 PM on Friday, I'd have to bring it in on Saturday, before noon, or I'd pay for another day. Closing at six is just wrong.

I drove the truck over to my storage unit and got started loading it up while I waited for my friend, Logan, to arrive. I am not gifted when it comes to seeing things spatially. I became overwhelmed by how things weren't fitting well in the truck, and the crappy or non-existent job of packing I'd done with the storage unit stuff. Too much was fragile and not padded well enough, too much was in tote bags rather than boxes, and the boxes and plastic bins were all different shapes. Logan arrived with food from the Thai place, and another friend called and offered sympathy, and I felt better for about five minutes. Then Logan admitted he wasn't as good at seeing how it should all be packed as some, like his father, and my stress level went back up. Spatial or not, I didn't think everything would fit.

We emptied the unit, except for the wood shelves that John and I made a few months back (he picked them up later), and I drove the truck to the house. I heard noises as I stopped (as smoothly as humanly possible) and went around corners (with extreme care). Shifting occurred and it wasn't good. Logan and I looked at the mess inside the truck and knew it had to be emptied and repacked. Neither of us were up for it that night.

John and his girlfriend arrived and John looked at me, leaning forlornly against something of his in the garage, and said, "You can't do this with just Logan. You need more help." I said, "I have to move in tomorrow, and I have to get the truck back by six. Who am I going to get at this point?" He said, "I'll call Freddie."

Freddie is a guy who occasionally does yard work for John. He's a nice guy, but he was attacked a few years ago and has a permanent disability from that. He can't bend his right leg at all. My face must've showed my lack of enthusiasm because John said, "He'll bring a friend and they'll get it done."

I got up early the next morning and moved all my boxes and bags outside, hoping to save a bit of time and get a better idea of how much needed to go in the truck. I also moved about half of the stuff out of the truck before John arrived with Freddie and Raoul. He'd picked them up since Freddie doesn't drive (due to the leg injury). Freddie got in the truck and started handing things out to Raoul and they had it emptied immediately. Then they packed the stuff in decent boxes, the ones that were easy to stack. I looked at John and said, "It's not gonna fit." He said, "Freddie used to work for Allied Movers." Very helpful, yes. Freddie said, "It's not all going to fit."

So the man who can be maddening offered to let us use his old pickup truck (not his newer and bigger one) and fill that, too. It still wasn't enough. I had a 10' U-haul stuffed to its gills, a pickup truck full, including the back seat, and I ended up with three car loads in addition to that. Not all that day, however.

The old pickup has a manual transmission. First John asked to see Raoul's driver's license, then he made him drive John up and down the street to prove he could handle a stick. Seriously. Finally, Raoul and Freddie left in the pickup (saying they'd meet us there after making a necessary stop somewhere along the way -- they hadn't realized it was going to be an all day job), and Logan and I took off in the truck, heading for my new home in Lompoc. I'd told Logan that driving the truck was no big deal, that I'd brought my stuff from Florida in one just like it. Well, driving a half-filled truck and driving a fully loaded truck are two different experiences. I actually did the speed limit or less. And when we got to the grade on the 1, north of the 101, we fell to under 40 mph. I put the flashers on. Then I gave it some gas, hoping to get to the top sometime that day, and watched about a quarter of a tank of gas go bye-bye.

I parked in front of my apartment building and left Logan with the truck while I went to the office to complete my paperwork. It took so long that he dozed off. There was a lot to go over, as it turned out. Enough for a separate blog entry. When I got back to the truck I saw that Freddie and Raoul were there, and we began the unpacking. I have a second floor apartment. I'm pretty sure I made about 731 trips up and down those stairs with boxes. At one point I came out the door to see Freddie coming up the stairs with something. I said, "Doesn't that hurt your leg?" He nodded yes. I said, "Then please just unload the truck and let the rest of us do this part." Of course, I was perfectly willing to have him cart the mattress and heavy chair up with Raoul. I'm not that nice.

At some point I realized it was past lunchtime so Freddie and Raoul went off in the pickup to get us some burgers. Logan and I continued to bring things in, since I had that six o'clock deadline looming. I also had an appointment for the Comcast installation and tried to will him to be early or at least on time. We ate lunch, finished bringing everything into my apartment, and the Comcast guy arrived exactly when he said he would. We managed to leave Lompoc at 3:35. Logan was quite relaxed about this. I believe I said something, in a possibly shrill voice, like, "It's effin Friday, Logan, and we have to go through Santa Barbara traffic, then that idiotic traffic where they're widening the road and people can't drive next to a concrete barrier for some reason and we have to put gas in this stupid thing and it isn't certain that we'll make the deadline and if we don't I'll have to sleep on John's couch and return the truck in the morning and I don't want to do that!" Oh yeah, and driving an empty truck on a windy day is not enjoyable, either. Stress.

There was traffic, but we made it with about 45 minutes to spare, so that was great. A woman from the U-haul office came out and suggested that I back the truck into a particular spot. I looked at her and said, "Back in?" She offered to do it for me and I gladly let her. You can see well enough with the mirrors to drive, but you can't see well enough to back in anywhere.

We all met at John's house. I paid everyone, John took Freddie and Raoul home, and Logan helped me with the penultimate load of stuff in my little Saturn. John had been both generous and cheap at the same time (letting us borrow his worthless old truck, which as it turned out had tires so bald that it was a dangerous trip, but taking $80. for gas), and I was grateful that I didn't need to stay there another night, and could finally go Home.

I thought I might miss the view from his house and street. Seeing the ocean every day, and the twinkling city lights at night, were pleasures I'd gotten very used to. But I knew on that drive home that it wouldn't be the case. Dusk was seriously falling as I headed up the 101, and the colors of the sky over the ocean were like a wave goodbye as I drove north. Lompoc is just an average small town, but the area around it is gorgeous. The mountains, the mist, the fields of flowers, are all easy on the eyes. And the ocean is about a 15 minute drive away. I'll trade that for seeing it from John's front yard any day.

During the move Logan and I ended up talking about Gwennie, of course. October 9th was the first anniversary of her passing. I moved on October 5th. Logan and I both thought that she'd be pleased with how things are progressing for those she left behind.