In the past 21 days, I’ve been asked to vacate my mini manse (due to the non-use of condoms by my landlord’s son who now needed my side of the duplex to expand their family), searched and found a new castle, scrapped and scrimped for money to pay rent two places in June while also forking over a pet and security deposit (my landlord refused to give me my deposit back early after asking what he could do to help – and then had the nerve to tell me that he couldn’t help it if I didn’t know how to”manage my money” when I told him I didn’t have the funds to move and also ended up telling me to “put your big girl panties on and deal with it”…you can imagine how that conversation ended), moved every evening after work (loading and unloading three car fulls a night was epic fun), consumed copious amounts of Skinny Pirates and wine after going to the doctor and spilling my guts that I can’t function on three hours of sleep per night, I’m beyond stressed and I just might punch someone in the face if the toner on the copier happened to run dry at work (not a typical reason for me to threaten physical violence) and the good ‘ol doc came back in and handed me a prescription…for a psychiatrist (lovely to have your feelings of lunacy verified by a medical professional – couldn’t I just get 14 days worth of Ambien or Xanax?!). Help a girl out!
After all of this I can finally say I’m done with this moving bullshit!
Moving is never, ever any fun. But being surprised with a relocation overwhelmed (to say the least) me. I moved into my mini manse three years ago after an awful year and was my ‘new start.’ Also daunting was the fact that I have shit everywhere. Literally (because I downsized from a house to a duplex). I have shit at my parents house, shit at friends’ homes, shit in a storage unit, shit in my mini manse…but my new palace is double the size of my old (this gal is moving up) – oh snap!
Load by load, my folks (who I am forever indebted to) and myself carried precious possessions to and from the old to the new.
Dissecting my wall of shoes proved to be a ginormous task.
While my dad never uttered a peep about how many shoes I own, I happily pointed out that it could be worse.
Teddy acted like the sky was falling (he happily took the cue from yours truly) and tried to take up residency in every empty box.
And was exhausted by the 48th hour of watching our trio take endless trips back and forth to our cars.
When my mom and I visited storage, it seemed like a good idea to stop payments and call Storage Wars on A&E. There wasn’t time to sift through everything BUT many trips were made to Goodwill and the dump.
I lost many nights of shut eye over whether or not my beloved piano would fit into my new mini manse. My work family came to my rescue by not only picking up my heavy as all get out player piano but also stepped in to move my furniture and belongings out of three different places with the company truck (I’m one lucky gal (with a happy tear in my eye) who will never be able to convey my level of gratitude).
The madness continued once we stopped to collect my other larger pieces of furniture – I snapped this pic while the boys were trying to maneuver my two ton antique Coke machine down the front steps (naturally, I run and hide when I think heavy lifting is in order. I’m such a bitch).
And while my life still looked like this…
I had to kick up my heels and celebrate the piano fitting into my new and improved mini manse (although the front door of the apartment had to be removed to get the damn thing in – but still!). And yes, believe what you’re seeing – I’m in overall cut-offs (that my grandpa wore while farming – although I never, EVER wear shorts) and sneakers (which I never EVER wear unless I’m working out) but this was a dire circumstance and comfort was above any other fashion issue (unfortunately).
Moving into my fabulous new closet, the first piece of clothing I grabbed was my t-shirt celebrating the end of 2010, as I’m finding myself in a similar situation currently.
In between all of the moving shenanigans, I took time out for all kinds of debauchery at a bachelorette party.
There was nothing more fun than getting up after a long weekend of partying and cleaning the day away at my old place, making a few last trips to my spacious new mini manse.
I felt a lump in my throat upon departing the driveway for the last time because change is terrifying but I’ve found it’s almost always for the better.
Plus, I have one hell of a new closet!
Invites to our kick ass housewarming will be delivered shortly – I accept all sizes of Captain Morgan bottles (hint, hint) and Teddy will be available for pawtographs.