This One's For You, Mike

I'm not going to try and hide the fact that I have a favorite blog reader.  My fellow reality TV fan and favorite reader award goes to... Mike!  Now before my other five readers get too upset, I'll tell you why.  Mike is the only one who told me to get back to it.  And if Mike thought it was better that I give up blogging for good, he would have said so.  So taking his advice, I am back.  And since I will never, ever move again, I am back for good.

Moving was just as delightful as I remembered it.  While there was no U-Haul near death experience like last time (when the back tire FELL OFF the U-Haul at 60 mph on the freeway during construction), moving sucks no matter what. You have to beg apple boxes from the grocery store, handle every sock, paper clip and DVD you have ever purchased to pack them in said boxes.  You have to go without the luxury of knowing where your tape is, your chapstick, and your sanity because no matter how well organized you thought you were in packing and labeling the apples boxes, suddenly, at your new house, the labels are meaningless.  They do not contain what they advertise!  Then there is the crop of stuff you had to pack after the boxes ran out,  but all of your friends and neighbors are already loading your stuff into the truck.  That leftover stuff gets crammed into garbage sacks,  suitcases, and laundry baskets.  It is a soup of your life, filled with crap that if you had never bought, would probably be worth enough to pay off your car.

This time we only moved 1.1 miles from our old house, and while this should have been easier than moving to a different state, I can't say that it was.  Instead of one horrific day of cramming a moving van full, we spent weeks and weeks taking carloads and trailer loads until it was finally done.  By the end, the stuff soup ended up piled in the garage, which is to be expected, except that half of it wasn't boxed, so instead of looking like a respectable mess, it look like an impressive hoard.

And this is how all of your new neighbors meet you and get that all important first impression.  You are sweaty, in the same nasty jeans you have worn for 10 days, piling your hoard. You haven't eaten anything but Arby's for days on end and you are yelling at your children, and your dog who has taken it upon himself to mark all of the nice new neighbors' mailboxes as his own.  

Before you can put yourself together and try to fix that first impression with your neighbors, you have to unpack, but before you can unpack, you realize, you really need to paint the walls because they are covered with the feel of Other People.  And could that really, really be what it looks like on that wall?  Other People's dried boogers on the wall?  No, I did not see that during the walk-through!

Once the boogers are removed, walls, cabinets sanitized, and the fridge is delivered, you realized that you do not have the internet, a phone, or any mail coming to your house.  Sigh.  So much is expected of you when you can't even find your hairbrush.

Then there is that little run in with Hector from the power company who decided to shut off the power to your new house because you had not set up a new account because you already had an account with a power company, but whoops, that was the wrong company.  No notice, bam, the power goes off literally moments after you fill your beautiful new fridge with $200 worth of groceries.  Hector, I am sorry for my choice words, but thanks for getting the power turned back on before 5:00.  If it weren't for that restraining order, I would have thanked you in person.

But, six months later, it doesn't seem so bad.  I can download songs again, park in my garage and could even locate my 2009 taxes required for that pesky little audit.  Life is good again.  The house is great- in a cul-de-sac, lots of bathrooms, in the same schools as before, with a view of the mountains.  I love living here so much I plan to haunt the house when I die.  Like I said, I'm never moving again.