Same old Broad, typing from a new desk in a new chair in a new room in a new city.
Moving was...absolutely wretched. I cannot lie. By the time Hubby and I had finished loading everything into that bastard U-Haul it was a quarter to eleven. (P.M.) In the beginning of this process, I cautiously sorted, I tenderly bubble wrapped that which was not breakable (silverware?), I donated bag after bag to charity. In the bitter, baleful end, I did not sort; I did rash things like cram all of our shoes into one ginormous trash bag, and was forced to leave perfectly good items out on the rainy, dark street.
Oh yes, I forgot to mention- it hailed on moving day. There were pellets of ice angrily dancing from the hot August sky. That was especially fun.
I want to send a gigantic shout out to our friend David, who helped move many, many large pieces of furniture into that truck. (And one unwieldy green couch onto the street). Hubby and I heart you, for reals. Also, we're delighted you and Emma our moving into our old place! There's something comforting about that. And now we can continue to enjoy Smeagol stories from afar. I'm sure they'll be better that way.
Why does an apartment look so much bigger after it's been emptied? I said goodbye to each room, thanking them for those happy four years. We'd gotten engaged in that apartment. We watched the Red Sox win a World Series after 86 years.
Smeagol and his mother were still awake when we were finally ready to drive off. We knocked on their door and said goodbye. S's mom was especially sad to see us go: I had such good tenants, please keep in touch, etc. Give me a call sometime!
I started to babble; told her perhaps the next time she saw us we'd have a kid. Maybe in two years?
"Two years??!! How far along are you?"
One last Mistaken Pregnancy Inquiry for the road. Ah, New York, you do not disappoint. I would never expect you to.
Mama Smeagol blew us kisses as we drove away. I blew them back. The departure was all very surreal.
As Hubby started up the U-Haul I took stock: "It's almost eleven, which means we won't get there until, like, three am. Who does this? Who moves in a U-Haul in the middle of the night?"
Hubby turned to me, exhausted, bordering on the giddy, and mused: "well, I mean, that's kind of how we do things, isn't it?"
For whatever it's worth, it is. I am not really that surprised by the way things transpired. I was a little surprised, however, when Hubby stopped to get a coffee near the Mass Pike and saw the guy from Jordan's Furniture waiting outside the restroom. I sat inside the truck with Kittie. "How did he look?" I wanted to know. "Just like he does on TV" Hubs replied. "He had glasses and a pony tail. Everyone was staring at him. He looked kind of tired."
Fascinating. I wondered if he could've gotten us a deal on a couch. You know, if Hubby had gone up to him and asked, "Know where I can get a good couch around these here parts?
Sometime during the drive that Barenaked Ladies song came on, the one I'd been unconsciously humming in my head all day:
Broke into the old apartment. This is where we used to live...
Only memories, fading memories, blending into dull tableaux...I want them back...
I felt a twinge of sadness stab my heart, just for a moment. Let's face it, by that point I was far too fatigued to get very sentimental.
Earlier I'd pictured us arriving at my parent's house at dusk, sitting out on the deck, having a few beers, happily toasting our new endeavor. Instead, we would show up at 3:00 am, greeted only by Guinness, the overeager but lovable Golden Retriever. Dad had left cold Murphy's in the fridge for Hubby, but there would certainly be no "decking it" that evening. My parents were fast asleep, exhausted themselves from helping us in New York earlier that day. (Big thanks also to Mom and Dad. We heart you, too.) We fell wearily into bed. Kittie was confused, I was pre-menstrual, Hubby was delirious. We were both very, very sore.
The next day Hubby, me, my parents, two uncles and two cousins all drove into Boston to move us in. If packing up the damn U-Haul took twelve hours, unpacking it took probably one. For reals. I nearly cried when I saw them all arrive. I think Hubby wanted to as well. Later he confided to me that he was pretty much "done" before we'd even started. I don't know how we would've managed without them.
"That's what we do," uncle Jimmy shrugged with a smile. And in a way, I suppose that's one of the reasons we moved back.
