Team Stimey moved today. I’m still kind of in shock that the whole thing happened. I can’t quite believe that I packed my entire house and then some dudes stuffed it all in a couple of trucks and then deposited all of it into a new, awesome house.
We have a lot of work in front of us. We’re still prepping our old house for sale and I have six million boxes to unpack, but the moving of our stuff and our family was a huge hurdle and one that feels really good to check off of our list.
Because it was such a monumental day for Team Stimey, I will now recount it in minute detail for you.
6 am: My alarm goes off.
6:01 am: I briefly consider running away to Mexico with my belongings in a kerchief at the end of a stick, hobo style.
6:02 am: I try to go back to sleep. Avoidance is your friend!
6:22 am: Starfire jumps on the bed to greet the day—and us—by dragging her ass across the covers. Super. Thanks, Starfire. I guess I’m up.
6:34 am: I yank Alex’s pillow out from under his head and put it in a box.
6:59 am: Sam starts complaining about how there’s no spoon for cereal. Or containers for his lunch. Or…food for his lunch. Or…cereal.
7:33 am: I watch someone pick up the stack of old pots that Alex put out on our curb last night, against my protests. I was sure no one would want them. Alex is vindicated. I only see this happen because I am outside putting a heavy metal monkey into my car.
8 am: I made it all the way to 8 am before I had to open a packed box and dig something out (my cell phone charger).
8:02 am: After I take four giant plastic bins, a huge box, and two laundry hampers (and a metal monkey) to the car all by myself with no assistance, Alex makes me hold the door open for him as he carries a plush cat bed and bowl of food out of the house.
8:14 am: I watch the cutest little impromptu parade down my street as the cats go on a playdate while we move.
8:20 am: Gerbil panic ensues.
8:45 am: The movers arrive. I lead them on a quick tour of the house and they spring into action.
8:59 am: Dude. These guys are hard core.
9:07 am: The movers shrink wrap my couch. I regret not having asked them to shake it first to get all the crumbs out.
9:12 am: A mover looks at our pleather love seat that we have repaired with duct tape and asks if we’re moving it. (The answer is yes.)
9:18 am: Our realtor shows up at the house to pick up keys for the new house because Alex went to the new house without keys after swearing that he didn’t need them. Evidently Alex was going to use the force to unlock the doors. I ask the realtor to tell Alex that he’s a dumbass. The realtor does not pass on the message.
9:40 am: I’m sitting on the floor in a corner of the kitchen to try to stay out of the way of my movers. They are a force of fucking nature. They move boxes by holding them in stacks behind their backs instead of in front of them. I am blown away.
9:41 am: I think about the fact that my floor is fucking FILTHY. (And that’s saying a lot coming from me. My standards are low.)
11:09 am: The movers finally need me again! They ask me where a certain dresser goes. I take waaaaay too long to figure out the answer and then realize that I gave them the wrong information.
11:38 am: Alex come back to the house. I think about locking the door and asking if he brought keys.
12:20 pm: I lose Alex in our own house. The old one, in which I should know my way around.
12:22 pm: He was in the bathroom.
1:19 pm: The movers leave with everything I own.
2:22 pm: The movers have been taking stuff off the truck at the house for a while. I start to feel bad that we bought a house with so many stairs.
2:34 pm: I feel like an asshole for having so much stuff.
2:42 pm: I decide that I should start throwing money at the movers every time they walk past me carrying my shit. But I don’t.
2:43 pm: I do some calculations and decide that I’ve said, “Thank you; I’m sorry,” approximately 672 times today.
2:48 pm: I return to my old house to pick up my kids from school.
3:19 pm: Quinn arrives home, looks around at our empty house, and says, “This is awkward.”
4:22 pm: I return to the new house with my kids. Much to their delight, Alex has set up the Xbox and has made Minecraft available to them.
4:25 pm: One and a half out of two trucks are unpacked. I resume saying, “Thank you; I’m sorry.”
4:49 pm: A mover finds a box labeled “Stimeyland,” which holds binders of printed out posts from this very blog. He says, “I know I’m going to butcher this word. Where do you want the box labeled stih ma land?”
5:01 pm: I start to worry about successfully tipping. I count and recount the bills in my pocket that I have earmarked for tips.
5:11 pm: A mover picks up a box labeled “Random” and looks at me quizzically. Alex is all, “Why write anything on the box at all?”
5:13 pm: Alex follows up by calling me Jean Stinkgardner.
5:15 pm: I continue to hear the movers say the words I have heard them repeat over and over all day, words such as trabajo and trabajando.
5:32 pm: After sitting outside to guide the movers all day, I wander inside and see the number of boxes in one room. I completely freak out. It will take me twenty-four years to unpack everything in my house.
5:43 pm: Tipping turns out to be fun. People like taking money.
5:47 pm: We pay the movers an obscene amount of money and they leave. It turns out that this part of the day is less fun than the tipping part of the day.
And that was that. Eventually our cats were returned to us, we ate some food, and we sent our kids to bed. Watching my cats explore the house is one of my favorite things that has happened ever. I think they’ll like this house. You know, once they come to terms with the fact that we somehow magically changed the entire place while they were at the neighbors’.
I have unpacking to do, but I’m not doing it tonight. There is time for that tomorrow morning. And the next day. And the day after that.