A Moving Story
Last year we moved from Sterling to Soldotna. It was hard. It was exhausting. After many long days of packing up our vehicles, driving back and forth several times and slowly unloading our stuff into a big pile at the new place we knew two things; First, we were smack dab in the middle of the move and it wasn't fun anymore. Secondly, we hadn't moved the furniture or the bulk of our boxes yet. We rented a u-haul for a decent price, chugged some coffee and did some quick stretches. We knew it was going to be a long day. In hindsight, we knew nothing. After hours of wrestling mattresses (they fight back), trying to puzzle how to get big items through small doorways (it went in, it has to come out right?), conceding we had to take apart the bedframes and tables (where'd we pack the screwdrivers?!) and a hellish game of Tetris to fit it all in the truck we drove to our new place (very slowly around corners). We backed in and got ready to jump out of the truck. Here's what happened instead. The ride over had given our backs just enough time to settle into a state of extreme protest. We didn't "jump" out of the truck, we hobbled out. Half bent over we made it to the back of the truck and lifted the gate. Staring at the unpacked truck we both knew for certain, we should have hired movers.