The Move

I'm sore.

Moving is not fun, folks. I hate it, and try to only do it once in a great while. This marks the fifth time we've moved during the past five years since I returned from Africa, so I'd like to think I'm pretty good at it by now. I'm really, really good at packing boxes.

Tell your friends.

Anyway, we were able to get into our place over the weekend, a few days before the official beginning of our lease (which was nice), so we got ourselves a U-Haul and went to war. Having the weekend open for moving also meant that we were able to recruit the Voigts and Clint to lend us a hand (which was very much appreciated). Unfortunately, we couldn't do all that much with the truck, as it had to be returned by five and we didn't get it until late in the morning, so there's a still a few van loads over at the apartment that I'll have to whittle away at after work over the course of the next couple weeks (we have to be out of that apartment by March 1st, I think).

The move itself wasn't nearly as bad as the last one, when we had to move everything up a horrid flight of stairs. This time around it was only a matter of moving everything down the stairs and into a first-floor house, so we didn't suffer the blows to morale that we did last time. We didn't break anything, either... which is always nice.

I took today off of work, actually. We've got crap everywhere, and I doubt I'd be able to focus on anything at work knowing what awaited me upon my return home. I hate feeling unsettled, so I'm devoting my energies today towards the putting-away of all things stowed in cardboard.

Not sure as to the size of the dent I'm going to be able to put into this mess, but I don't think I can relax until this house resembles, to any small degree, a livable domicile.

Wish me luck...

- Brian