Much to my dismay, little elves did not come in the middle of the night and neatly pack away all my belongings.
Instead, I woke up this morning forgetting I had boxed myself into my bedroom and tried on a pair of bankers boxes for skates, sailed down the hallway, finally, crashing into a giant pile of bubble wrap. This is what I get for refusing to turn on the lights because they make that insistent hum. It’s a good thing my new place does not have overhead lighting. As stumbling around in the dark to find a lamp will be much more effortless then scaling the wall for a switch. Definitely.
This is the first move I will be attempting where I actually have furniture I care about, so I have invested in stretch plastic furniture wrap, and I must admit, it’s awesome. The last time I moved a bed it was my futon in university and I flung that thing from my balcony to the street and someone picked it up and took it for themselves by the time I had got outside. The same thing also happened with my couch, kitchen table and dresser. Did I mention this was also how I found all the furniture in the first place? Ah, I miss Kingston.
I also miss having my mother around in situations like these. I can’t recall my dad ever visiting me while I was away, but my mom (given her amazing ability to throw my stuff out) is a good person to have around when purging, and would always make the drive to help out. She’s also freakishly strong, given her small frame. I have suspected for many years, there might be a bit of Rosie from The Jetsons in there.
Any interesting moving stories? Debacles or triumphs?
p.s. I hope this forecast is true.