First blog comes to you from — get ready — Seattle. We never even got out of town. If you’ve ever had a nightmare move, you’ll love this one. Truck arrives. Stuff starts loading. halfway through, everyone looks at the garage, looks at the truck, looks at the garage again – this is not going to fit. Things get rearranged. Things get moved out and moved in again. More stuff keeps vomiting forth from the house – the barbecue, the patio table, and oh yes, we haven’t loaded the washer/dryer yet. Bob suggests returning the entire kitchen’s worth of cabinets he bought up here for the kitchen down there. Not looking good. The day wears on. Then Bob suggests I call the buyer’s agent and ask if they want to buy the washer and dryer we were going to bring down for ourselves. At 5pm, we have a pow-wow. I call movers. We rent a motel room in Seattle for the night (what?). I am leaving out all the freak-outs and clusterf****s that accompanied. By 6pm, we have a driver for the big truck for tomorrow, a room rented, another truck rented that we will drive, and we abandon ship for the evening. Today is a much better day. The new truck will only have to carry a small load and is MUCH MORE comfortable than the bench seats on the big truck.
Today we understand things like the truck we rented was a ‘low boy’ and if we’d known that, we could’ve asked for a ‘high boy’ in which case everything would’ve fit. More than I ever wanted to know about moving. Why oh why did we leave the biggest move we’ve ever made in the hands of ourselves? Never again.
The low boy from hell
Living in Santa Barbara 