The blog you have reached has been changed. Please check the ISP and dial again.
I've moved.
Hey! Remember back, in the old days, when you'd move and have to change everything from your cable service provider to your butt hair braider to match your new address? Remember how it seemed like that was just yesterday?
For me it was yesterday.
And today.
And tomorrow.
And on into next week; that’s when I call the braider. The list of changes due to moving is never ending. So is the list of surprises.
"Honey, have you seen the checkbook?"
"Wasn't that in the grey file-box?"
"The one we threw away?"
Surprise!
Many people think the move is the hard part. The move is wonderland cake piece.
Eat Me!
Unless you handle your personal life like FEMA in Katrina-wake, the move is simple. You load boxes; boxes go on truck; wave good-bye to truck; now move! Blow out your cake candles cuz that’s all there is to it.
Oh, you can stress about breaking stuff, but let's face it. We break stuff everyday. What’s more, if you're the Pirate Queen, it's not called "breaking" it's called "spring cleaning."
"But that was my Fra-gee-lay lamp!"
"And it's now lighting a landfill somewhere in East Ontario."
The point is, things break. Things change. There's nothing you can do to stop it; so why stress about a move that will only further the inevitable? Move or no move your list of unbroken stuff inevitably shortens.
If you've invited family for a slice of move cake, disregard all that "don't stress" crap. Put on diapers. Family will make you wet your pants as they wedge grandma’s 200-year-old curio cabinet between the broken glass relief of Abraham Lincoln and the Canadian bear trap collection. A diaper will give you something to toss at uncle Teddy as he proclaims, "It fits!"
No, family and moving was actually on a college entry exam I took once. "Family is to move as bull is to
a) Pamplonian toe goo.
b) American Politician.
c) China shop.
d) Wisconsin Cheerleading."
I know. I got that one right.
And I got this move right. No family was used in the dissemination of Rob-goods. No family except the Pirate Queen, and she had a vested interest.
"Uhm, what happened to my boxes of comic books?"
"I packed them in the shredder."
"oh..."
Our move was exhausting, but simple. So was the drive across country. That's not to say that two cats in the backseat of a Hyundai Sonata didn't create challenges, but really it's not any different than traveling with kids, except the smell of cat urine is a little more ammonia-like and takes longer to get out of leather.
Yeah. I know that too.
But still, it's all just a great big adventure, until the truck is emptied and the box pile blocks everything from bedroom to bathroom. In that instant, that very moment, a line of demarcation is crossed. The side of fun adventure bleeds into the seventh ring of hell. Yes, That's the Devil dancing on the box of Ho-Hos. He didn't think they were packed tight enough.
Remember being a kid? The pile of toys you'd create in the middle of the floor to hold the burning Barbie sacrifice? Remember when you're parents would say, "You aren't going anywhere until you clean your room and that smell of burnt plastic is gone?" Well imagine the Barbie sacrifice actually called the Kraken from your closet and every item in the house, from Mom's authentic faux Elvis figurine collection to Dad's nose-hair of the presidents presentation, was pushed atop the altered-Barbie altar for you to clean. That's a post move.
That's our post move. Right down to the presidential nose-hairs. Now it’s time to figure out where it all goes. Post move is all about gathering the pieces of your old life and finding an equivalent fit in your new life.
It’s boxes. It’s notifications. It’s madness. It’s finding cat puke in a bowl and knowing that you moved that plop of joy across country.
At the same time it’s like Christmas. It’s finding things that you didn’t remember owning, and then losing them again amidst all the packing.
I think this is the time that speaks most to your faith. This is the time where you trust that God will show you the location of the TV remote. It should have gone in the TV box, but that’s life, right? Nothing is ever as it should be. Life is making the best of what you have and hope the neighbors don’t get too mad while the volume of Alex Trebek’s voice rattles the walls.
That doesn’t make it easier though. Life, like moving, is change. Change is hard because even when we know what’s going on, we don’t know what to expect. We just open the next box, leading to the next day of surprises.
I guess moving is like reading my blog, only with direction. So here’s your box to open today. Go ahead.
Don’t worry. I’ve already found the nose hair collection.
