Moving (Not Me)
My sister, Queen of Questionable Decisions, told me around the end of January that she decided to move in with her boyfriend (of ? number of months; she’s never been clear about how long they were ‘dating’).
The Queen is the mom of two children: her oldest is 15, her youngest is 7.
Apparently, the Queen had thought out her move carefully. She was going to move necessary items to the BF’s house in Bobtown, PA (Greene County, yikes!) and would place her furniture and household items not needed at a storage facility. Sounds like a good plan, right?
Before I left for my Rock Boat vacation, I made the mistake of telling the Queen that I could help her when I returned from my trip.
Some background: I have helped the Queen move at least ten times over the past 15 years. I am the only person who promises to help her and actually shows up. Her friends (the Smart Ones) forget, can’t make it, have other plans, or fill in the blank, when the Queen mentions moving. For one move, it was me, the Queen, and one of her friends. Of the three of us, I was the only one who was not post-gastric bypass surgery with restrictions on heavy lifting. That move involved icy roads and rickety steps into an apartment. Don’t be jealous.
So I’m sitting in the Orlando airport waiting for my flight home from my awesome vacation. I text the Queen to inquire as to how her move was going. (She had given three weeks’ notice at her job and her last day was the week before I left on vacation. She had an entire week to get started on packing.)
Our text exchange:
What the F happened when I was away? Oh wait, I’m getting off track of the subject of this post. SQUIRREL!
Back to the move. I gave my kids the option of coming with me to help or staying home and sleeping in. My smart kids elected to stay home and sleep in.
The plan was for her to arrive with the U-Haul truck at 10 AM. At 9:45, when I am 10 minutes away from arrival at her house, I get a text from her that she should be there at 10:30.
Me: That’s ok, I have a key and can let myself in.
Queen: I changed the locks on New Years.
Awesome! After two cups of coffee and a 45 minute drive, I need to pee! Sister shows up within 10 minutes. Whew, that was close.
So I take a look around. I don’t see a packed box in sight. I see closets and dressers still full of clothes. I see jewelry still hanging from hooks. In her kids’ room, there are containers full of toys (that are never played with). It’s 10:15 and I’m ready to burst into tears. Nothing is ready. Nothing is marked on whether it’s going to the new house or going to storage.
Her new husband shows up with his cousin. So there’s 4 of us and only 3 of us can carry heavy stuff. (She’s post-surgery and restricted to no heavy lifting.) Here we go again! Her husband has no clue on how to move or pack a moving truck! About an hour into trying to get her organized, my mom and step-dad show up. Whew, at least another body who can help carry stuff! I joke a million times (not exaggerating) about signing the Queen up for Hoarders.
Thanks to my bossiness, we get the truck loaded with the items going to Bobtown. The husband’s cousin had to be home by 2:30, so they headed to unload. Mom, step-dad, and I aren’t making the drive to unload so we head to lunch. Their ETA to return with truck is within 2-1/2 hours. We have lunch, hang out at mom’s house to kill time, and head back to sister’s around 2:30. She soon calls and say’s she’ll be there in a hour (3:30). Fabulous! I had hoped to leave by 4 so this was just awesome news. (#Sarcasm)
To speed things up, we begin carrying and lining up the items going to storage. To make a long story short, we get the truck loaded with items going to storage. It’s now 4:15. Since I had left my kids at home all day, I am now ready to leave. I apologized for not sticking around to unload at the storage unit, but I wanted to get home to my kids.
Once I get home, I pass out for a two hour coma nap. I wake up to a text thanking me for my help, and stating that “she did everything by herself.” I still don’t know what she thinks she did since NOTHING was packed or ready. After dinner and a hot shower, I am back in bed at 10 PM and sound asleep within minutes. Exciting Saturday night in my life!
LESSON LEARNED: The next time my sister mentions moving that does not involve a professional moving team, I am busy.