Lift and Tote 101
The Lovely Mrs. G. and I will be moving soon – very soon. As in 11 days from now soon.
On that note, here’s my question to you: Have you ever met anyone who ENJOYS moving?
Oh, sure – it’s exciting to have a new home, possibly in a new town. And I’m sure that if you surveyed 100 movers – people who make their living hauling your crap around – a majority of them will say that yeah, moving has been berry, berry good to them.
But what I’m talking about is the actual PROCESS of moving. You know – packing, lifting, taping, hauling, begging your friends for help, renting U-Hauls, unpacking, searching for something you've boxed somewhere… Yeah, that part of the moving experience.
In my 42 years on God’s Green Earth, I’ve never met anyone who actually likes this part of moving. And I doubt if you have, too.
I’ve moved 8 times in my life, all after age 21. The first 6 moves were 20 miles or less; move #7 took me from Seattle to Iowa, and numero ocho brought us to Sioux City in 1999. None of which I’d call “fun”, although it was kind of nice to move away from the X (and not look back) when we left Seattle.
So now we’re now prepping for Move Number 9, from Sioux Cityto Omaha, only this time we’re going to do it differently: We’ve hired movers. Why, you ask, would we be willing to spend the extra dough to have professional movers do it for us, instead of rounding up a rental truck and a half dozen semi-drunk buddies? It’s simple: We still haven’t recovered from our last move.
It was a Saturday in June 1999 when we moved from Cowtown, Iowa (population 800) to Sioux City. June is normally a fairly mellow month weather-wise, but when we moved we must’ve done something to piss off Mother Nature, because it was one of those rare June days when it was 95 degrees and 95 percent humidity. It was me, Mrs. G., and a married couple friends of ours who offered to help us load our rental truck. We started early in the morning (around 7:00), filling the truck with about 2/3 of the way through what was really supposed to be moved. (I thought I ordered the biggest truck available – Mrs. G. recalls that I wimped out and got a smaller one. I honestly don’t remember, so she probably is right. Just don’t tell her that.)
We were sweaty, tired, and out of energy, but the fun had just begun – we now had to drive 55 miles to Sioux City, then unload all this crap. Then – if that wasn’t fun enough – we had to go back to Cowtown, get the rest of the stuff, and then do it all again. All while the heat and humidity continued to climb. We got to Sioux City, showed our friends around our new (still empty) house, then proceeded to unload the truck. Hot, hot, sweaty, yucky, not much fun. Oh, and have I mentioned that our friends bailed on us about halfway through? I can’t blame them, really –helping friends move sucks big time. But c’mon – itwas miserable for all of us! Isn’t it true that misery LOVES company? So Mrs. G. and I were left alone to finish unloading the truck, then going back for the rest.
Long story short, we unloaded the last of the junk into our new house at about 5:00 PM, right at the peak of the early summer heat. We’d manage to bring everything, except for one of our cats who had somehow disappeared prior to our loading the first box. (Ifound her the next day, hiding underneath the furnace. I brought her to the new house, where she hid underneath the basement stairs for a week.) I took the moving truck back, came back and showered,and split a Domino’s pizza with Mrs. G. We then fell dead asleep, exhausted to the bone, on our mattress,which had been dropped in the middle of the living room floor. The next morning? We were soooo sore we had a hard time getting off the mattress. I hurt so badly that I’m surprised I’m still not lying there now.
Yes, moving sucked. It sucked royally. It sucked big time. It sucked so much – that we won’t do it again. (8 ½ years later, and we’re still remembering every box we hauled. It was that bad.)
So here we are – in WINTER – about to move again. Knowing Mother Nature as I do, the day we move it’ll probably be 20 below with an ice storm or something. But this time we’re going to sit it out and pay some poor stiffs to do the grunt work for us. They’ve got the muscles, they’ve got the truck. We’ve got the checkbook.
So here’s to all of you hard working movers – may you always be there when we call. ‘Cause trust me – we’ll be a-calling.
On that note, here’s my question to you: Have you ever met anyone who ENJOYS moving?
Oh, sure – it’s exciting to have a new home, possibly in a new town. And I’m sure that if you surveyed 100 movers – people who make their living hauling your crap around – a majority of them will say that yeah, moving has been berry, berry good to them.
But what I’m talking about is the actual PROCESS of moving. You know – packing, lifting, taping, hauling, begging your friends for help, renting U-Hauls, unpacking, searching for something you've boxed somewhere… Yeah, that part of the moving experience.
In my 42 years on God’s Green Earth, I’ve never met anyone who actually likes this part of moving. And I doubt if you have, too.
I’ve moved 8 times in my life, all after age 21. The first 6 moves were 20 miles or less; move #7 took me from Seattle to Iowa, and numero ocho brought us to Sioux City in 1999. None of which I’d call “fun”, although it was kind of nice to move away from the X (and not look back) when we left Seattle.
So now we’re now prepping for Move Number 9, from Sioux Cityto Omaha, only this time we’re going to do it differently: We’ve hired movers. Why, you ask, would we be willing to spend the extra dough to have professional movers do it for us, instead of rounding up a rental truck and a half dozen semi-drunk buddies? It’s simple: We still haven’t recovered from our last move.
It was a Saturday in June 1999 when we moved from Cowtown, Iowa (population 800) to Sioux City. June is normally a fairly mellow month weather-wise, but when we moved we must’ve done something to piss off Mother Nature, because it was one of those rare June days when it was 95 degrees and 95 percent humidity. It was me, Mrs. G., and a married couple friends of ours who offered to help us load our rental truck. We started early in the morning (around 7:00), filling the truck with about 2/3 of the way through what was really supposed to be moved. (I thought I ordered the biggest truck available – Mrs. G. recalls that I wimped out and got a smaller one. I honestly don’t remember, so she probably is right. Just don’t tell her that.)
We were sweaty, tired, and out of energy, but the fun had just begun – we now had to drive 55 miles to Sioux City, then unload all this crap. Then – if that wasn’t fun enough – we had to go back to Cowtown, get the rest of the stuff, and then do it all again. All while the heat and humidity continued to climb. We got to Sioux City, showed our friends around our new (still empty) house, then proceeded to unload the truck. Hot, hot, sweaty, yucky, not much fun. Oh, and have I mentioned that our friends bailed on us about halfway through? I can’t blame them, really –helping friends move sucks big time. But c’mon – itwas miserable for all of us! Isn’t it true that misery LOVES company? So Mrs. G. and I were left alone to finish unloading the truck, then going back for the rest.
Long story short, we unloaded the last of the junk into our new house at about 5:00 PM, right at the peak of the early summer heat. We’d manage to bring everything, except for one of our cats who had somehow disappeared prior to our loading the first box. (Ifound her the next day, hiding underneath the furnace. I brought her to the new house, where she hid underneath the basement stairs for a week.) I took the moving truck back, came back and showered,and split a Domino’s pizza with Mrs. G. We then fell dead asleep, exhausted to the bone, on our mattress,which had been dropped in the middle of the living room floor. The next morning? We were soooo sore we had a hard time getting off the mattress. I hurt so badly that I’m surprised I’m still not lying there now.
Yes, moving sucked. It sucked royally. It sucked big time. It sucked so much – that we won’t do it again. (8 ½ years later, and we’re still remembering every box we hauled. It was that bad.)
So here we are – in WINTER – about to move again. Knowing Mother Nature as I do, the day we move it’ll probably be 20 below with an ice storm or something. But this time we’re going to sit it out and pay some poor stiffs to do the grunt work for us. They’ve got the muscles, they’ve got the truck. We’ve got the checkbook.
So here’s to all of you hard working movers – may you always be there when we call. ‘Cause trust me – we’ll be a-calling.
posted by Tommy G at
8:35 PM
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