Like our Gwen, the last year has not been all that peachy keen for me. Actually, the last three years have been full of crappiness from betrayal by so-called friends resulting in the loss of my job, among other things, to filing for disability, which has led to my recent move from a county boasting more than a million people to a small Central California town of a tad more than ten thousand folks. The stress is less, I’m closer to family, and now I can concentrate on me, something I should have started a while back this last bit of my slippery-slope life.

I figured the time would come that I’d have to make this move. Disability, even my own personal insurance policy, doesn’t pay much nowadays, especially due to the fact I’ve had the policy since 1988. So I began the tedious task of trying to find a cheaper place that’s
still in a decent part of town. I almost took off to parts unknown in Wyoming, but that fell through. As things have finally calmed down, the past couple of weeks have not been a time I can yet look back at and laugh. At least not a belly laugh at this point in time.

And here’s why……

I knew moving during the holidays wouldn’t be the best of times for such an event. But I also figured since I had three weeks before Christmas to pack as much as possible, moving would, well, move along at a nice, consistent pace. How wrong I was. Everything else
under the sun moved expect me and my belongings. I ended up with the move from hell.

The original plan was to move to weekend before Christmas. Everything would be taken care of a week in advance and I could enjoy
the holiday with family and friends. Mother Nature, however, had a whole nother idea in mind. Rain. It started a few days before
Sunday, the 19th, D-Day. I kept watch on our local news, hoping against hope the rain would die down and we could get to work. Not
to be. That Sunday, the weatherman said, would bring 60% chance of rain. He couldn’t be wrong, like most weathermen are,
this particular day?? I wouldn’t be greedy. All I needed was a just a little sunshine!

So I called Penske and pushed our rental truck date back a week to December 26th. Yes, the day after Christmas. Had no choice with
no more weekends in the month of December. So, once again, everything is scheduled and we just have to wait out Mother Nature to
see what happens in a week’s time.

We actually got lucky, the percentage of rain went down to 20. Thank goodness. Things should be looking up soon! As the old saying goes, I spoke too soon. This was the first time I’d rented a Penske truck. But they gave me a good deal – unlimited mileage and extra discounts for renting online as a couple of examples. I should have known right then the cosmos were lining up against me because something was going right. Online Penske employees told me our local office opened at 8:30 a.m. Me and my brother-in-law, Tim, showed up at 8:35. Doors were locked. On the door was posted their winter hours, 9:00. Of course. So we waited and finally someone shows up.

But the weekend guy had no idea what’s going on. “I don’t have any 26-foot trucks on the yard.”

“Well,” I told him, “get one.”

“I have no way of doing that.”

Seems the Friday, Christmas Eve, crew, were too excited to start their holiday to leave a note explaining what’s supposed to happen on Sunday. So I called my handy-dandy Penske 800 number. I’m not a happy mover about this time. After explaining to the gal who answered the phone what’s happening, she insisted the guy can call his district office to get the truck I need. He insisted the district office is closed, it’s Sunday after all.

In between all of this, another phone call came into this Penske office. Seems a 26-foot truck should be dropped off in about 10 minutes. Well, what do you know, something right for once! And that was my first clue. 20 minutes ticks by. No truck. Oh, maybe they said they’d be leaving in 10 minutes, not dropping off in 10 minutes, the weekend guy backpedaled. He then tried to call the folks who rented the truck and gets nothing but voicemail. And he also discovered they’re coming from a small town at least 45 minutes away. Didn’t surprise me one darned bit.

So about the time I start thinking it, the weekend guy said, “There’s a U-Haul just down the street.” So Tim and I head out, still
full of optimism, despite our not-so-stellar start to the morning. Our luck held, U-Haul had the size truck we needed, with some added extras, and I saved about 90 bucks. Finally some success!

The weather held the entire day. Loading the truck went smoothly for a few hours while my sister, Lisa, and I continued packing whatever we could get our hands on. Which was a lot. The biggest obstacle I had to get over for this move? My books. Like most avid readers, I have a very large TBR pile. Like only very few bookaholics, my TBR pile is really a mountain. I have thousands of books. Thousands. The majority, by this day, had been packed. Even carted the 60-odd miles to a storage unit closer to my new home. But a lot still remained, even after friends had helped packed what could be so far. Worrying about packing all the books also kept me disorganized as far as packing other things in the condo. Needless to say, we didn’t get nearly as much loaded on that darned U-Haul as we’d anticipated.

Darkness fell. Bones ached. Eyes drooped. My sister decided to stay the night so we could work on better organization for the next day. Tim would bring more reinforcements back so all would move faster. Sounded like a good, solid plan. I think the cosmos were laughing so darned hard by this time, gasping for breath, that they just couldn’t keep up with the seven pairs of hands we had aiding our mission on Monday. Things went relatively well.

Except for my rheumatoid arthritis. The wrists hurt. The shoulders hurt. The back hurt. The knees hurt. Hell, pretty much everything hurt. It was Vicodin time!

And we started early Monday morning. Packed boxes, loaded the truck. Packed boxes, loaded the truck. At least I had good friends who came to town to help. Our own Dinca drove an hour to pack up the last of my kitchen and bedroom and other varieties of places, I’m sure. My long-time friend Linda is only thirty minutes away but she made the trip to help too. My nephew, cousin, and one of their friends, along with my brother-in-law, made up the heavy-item movers. So we had a houseful. This day actually went well. Finally got on the road early evening, parked the truck, and everyone flopped exhausted into bed.

The problems started again the next morning, Tuesday. My brother-in-law had called a good friend to help him unload the truck. Said friend said, “Sure!” and we agreed 9:00 would be a good time to start. Eddie, the friend, and his son got to the house a little early and parked on the roadside to await Tim’s arrival. I could see a car from the window and called Tim to make sure that was Eddie. Sure was, so all is well. Until about two minutes later.

I glance out the window again and a sheriff’s car has pulled up behind Eddie, is at his car questioning him about whatever. I call Tim to tell Eddie when all was done to drive up into the driveway so nothing else happens. I then open the garage door so the officer could see someone was home, maybe he’d come over and talk to me. No dice. He continued to grill Eddie for several more minutes. Long story short, the cop thought Eddie and his son, who are Hispanic, were going to burglarize our house because of the U-Haul sitting in plain sight. Sigh. The deputy finally ran their plates and let them go about their day when he discovers they’re no potential threat. Seems like he could have done that first thing. Sure would brought my anxiety level down a few notches.

Next problem. The guys head out to fire up the truck so we can get moving.  🙂  no pun intended! I’m finishing up in the house, go by the window again and see all of them near the back of the truck, and my curiosity gets the better of me. I take a closer look and realize they’re doing something at the back tire. OMFG!!!! The truck has sunk into the ground and it’s stuck! All the rain had made the ground quite soft, of course, and that truck was stuffed to the gills. Can you just see it sinking inch by agonizing inch over night?? Arrrgh! None of the guys’ efforts were paying off, so Tim called another friend who has one of those big-ton pickup trucks that will hopefully unstick that darned U-Haul. Took two tries and left super black skid marks on the drive and huge ruts in the ground, but it was finally free from the mud and we could get to work!

The next couple of hours went smoothly, the truck was unloaded quickly. Then we hit the road to head back to the condo for the next load. I pulled into the complex, stopped to get the day’s mail, and just as I stepped out of the car, you guessed it, it started to rain. And it rained. And it rained. And it rained. The entire time, five hours, we were there. It was absolutely miserable. Miserable, I say! It was worse for the guys trekking in and out with the last of the furniture, the last-minute items that hadn’t been packed, the patio furniture and other outdoor pieces. The rain penetrated every piece of clothing, including their shoes. And, of course, things didn’t go all that smoothly, mostly due to my memory.

As we got the last of everything in the truck, I remembered there were still some items in the garage from when we’d worked in there the day before. So Tim pulls the truck around to the other side of the complex, I drive the car over. As had been happening the last several weeks, the garage door opener chose that moment not to work. Sigh. I take the key to the pedestrian door off my keyring, had it to my nephew and he heads around to get the place open. As he’s doing that, I suddenly remember we hadn’t finished getting everything out of the small storage area in the backyard. Another sigh. So after clearing out the garage, we head back to the house and cram what we can into another box and cram that into the U-Haul!

Everything is out!!!

It rained on us the entire way home, but at that point no one cared. It was nice just to be warm and out of the rain.

The next day, Wednesday, we had to unload that last truckload. When we were at the storage unit to put away what can’t be used right at the moment, Tim tells me there’s no way it’s all going to fit in the space left in the units I have so far. LOL, yes, I’m planning a yard sale but the weather has to be better for that! So I rent another unit just get the truck empty so we can get it turned in. Finally everything is taken care of and we all let out a huge breath with our two thousandth sigh of relief.

I’m still working on unpacking, pulling boxes from the storage units, but at least I have time now and I can leave it be if it rains. My arthritis still acts up now and again because of all the physical work I had to do, some days are better than others, but the vicodin still comes in handy, along with some Soma once in a while. Yes, I believe in drugs!

The only problem I currently have three weeks later is the internet. Because we live in a rural area, we are somewhat limited in provider choices, as I’m sure some of you know. But when I called Verizon – the only telephone carrier in this area – they assured me we’d be able to get internet, so they’d send the appropriate equipment and I’d be up and running. Said equipment arrives, I set it up as directed. Nothing happens. No connection. I call Verizon. After some line testing, the rep decides there’s no signal so no internet right now and a tech will have to be dispatched. February 14. What???? Are you kidding me???? Nope, they aren’t kidding. Talk about lousy customer service.

In the meantime I’m haunting the two local cyber cafes each day to get online. I got caught up with email. I got the reviews written for the books I’d read during the last however many weeks. I played a couple of Facebook games because I was going through withdrawals on that score. I’m calling Verizon every day to bug the hell out of them, but so far that’s not helping. Anyone out there have any contacts at Verizon? I’ll beg, borrow, and steal for help with them!

So that’s my little tale of my move from hell. Four days of problems and setbacks. I hope you never have to go through such crap,  though I know moving is never a picnic. My books kept me sane. I still daydreamed about my favorite heroes. Thank god some things never change.