A tale of two moves. Last Friday was moving day – first, about ten hours of watching our house get moved into storage. Then a few more spent hauling ourselves into an apartment, where we’ll wait for the finished new old house.
Moving is hard on anyone; a doubleheader is killer. The most mind-bending task by far was keeping the “to storage” and “to apartment” stuff separate – and that’s not even counting the stuff we call “endless trash,” “kick to the curb,” and “I can’t believe we owned this.”
This pesky table was begging to follow rest of the furniture to storage, but we wanted it at the apartment, so I had to lay down the law:
Aha, it stayed put! My flimsy memos were like kryptonite to the movers, so I kept going:
Don’t take that trash can!
Just kidding! This one moved.