Moving Sucks
The plan was supposed to involve me driving a moving truck from Blacksburg to DC with Miss Viking’s stuff, picking up a couch at my Dad’s house, picking up my stuff in DC and then head to the new place in Silver Spring. Well conceived, poorly executed…
6:00 AM – Miss Viking’s alarm clock goes off. I shouldn’t have stayed up late playing Rock Band, and I certainly shouldn’t have had that last beer. I head upstairs for coffee before hitting the road.
7:00 AM – After sitting at the kitchen table and drinking coffee for nearly an hour, I’m finally on the road. I’ve got a truck full of Miss Vikings clothes, various bookshelves, televisions, kitchen tables, knick knacks, and a piano stuffed into a 16’ moving truck. I haven’t driven anything this large in years, but I’m sure it’s just like riding a bike.
7:45 AM – It turns out that driving an oversized moving truck through the mountains of southwest Virginia is a little tougher than I thought. I’ve been white knuckling my way down what must be at least %80 incline hills, chain smoking, and wondering why the few motorists on the road at 7 on a Saturday morning insist on driving next to me when it should be clear to everyone on the road that I’m going to need both lanes if a major collision is going to be avoided.
8:30 AM – I’m beginning to get the hang of the truck, and have begun to pass people on the freeway, leaving my safety zone of the right lane. I’ve got my right arm hanging out the window so that I have a trucker’s tan to show off at the next rest area. I want to make sure that I blend in so that my fellow road-masters will let me know where the ‘smokies’ are waiting. I should have bought a John Deere hat…
Noon (things begin to go awry) – I’ve arrived at my Dad’s house in Woodbridge, where some sucker, I mean good friend, has agreed to meet me to load a couch onto the truck. It doesn’t fit, and we have to jam it into the truck at an angle. This wouldn’t be a problem, but I still have to load all of my things into the truck. I’m going to have to pull some of Miss Vikings things off and re-arrange the storage configuration. Years of Tetris are about to pay off.
12:45 PM – It begins to drizzle as I pull up in front of my house in DC. My buddy and I quickly begin to remove the couch and as much of Miss Viking’s stuff as we need to allow the couch to fit back into the truck at a reasonable angle.
1 PM – The couch is on the truck, and as I exit my house carrying an unwrapped mattress, the heavens open. This is not the kind of ‘isn’t this refreshing’ summer rain that you normally expect during a move. This is end of the world, Moses will have to part the seas to cross Wisconsin Avenue, kind of downpour that I expect during a move. Rain drops the size of ping pong balls begin to pelt my mattress. I scurry about, putting Miss Viking’s things onto the truck to prevent additional water damage.
1:03 PM – Miss Viking calls to let me know that she has arrived at our new house. The previous occupant has not removed her possessions from the house.
1:07 PM – With as much cargo as we could get into the truck while a monsoon is raging, I leave my old house and drive to Silver Spring. I’m wet, I’m sweaty, I can’t see the road, and a man in a canoe just cut me off going through Chevy Chase Circle.
2:00 PM – I’ve finally arrived at my new home. I dry off and wait for the movers hired by Miss Viking’s new employer to remove our possessions from the truck. While this is occurring, I pace through my new house, marveling at all of the wonderful things the previous occupant has left for us. I’m now the proud owner of a flower print couch last upholstered in 1972, five bags of aromatic rocks, an entire kitchen of dated flatware, and an odd and disturbing aroma whose origin I can’t locate.
5:00 PM – With the truck unloaded and a long day nearly complete, I decide to relax by driving back to my old house and pack the things that wouldn’t fit into the truck on the first trip.
5:30 PM – Upon arrival at my previous dwelling, Miss Viking notes that her mother’s office desk has acquired several rather visible scratches at some point during the move. I contend that this must have happened when it was originally packed in the truck or at some point during transit. She counters that I damaged the treasured piece of furniture when I removed it in the middle of an apocalyptic weather occurrence. I won’t tell you how the dispute was resolved other than to say that I loaded the truck by myself while she returned to Silver Spring.
8:00 PM – Back in Silver Spring. I shower and drink a beer as fast as humanly possible. Miss Viking and a friend have spent the last 2 hours removing signs of the previous occupant’s occupation from our house. Nothing went like it was supposed to, but it could be worse. I could have moved to Georgetown.
6:00 AM – Miss Viking’s alarm clock goes off. I shouldn’t have stayed up late playing Rock Band, and I certainly shouldn’t have had that last beer. I head upstairs for coffee before hitting the road.
7:00 AM – After sitting at the kitchen table and drinking coffee for nearly an hour, I’m finally on the road. I’ve got a truck full of Miss Vikings clothes, various bookshelves, televisions, kitchen tables, knick knacks, and a piano stuffed into a 16’ moving truck. I haven’t driven anything this large in years, but I’m sure it’s just like riding a bike.
7:45 AM – It turns out that driving an oversized moving truck through the mountains of southwest Virginia is a little tougher than I thought. I’ve been white knuckling my way down what must be at least %80 incline hills, chain smoking, and wondering why the few motorists on the road at 7 on a Saturday morning insist on driving next to me when it should be clear to everyone on the road that I’m going to need both lanes if a major collision is going to be avoided.
8:30 AM – I’m beginning to get the hang of the truck, and have begun to pass people on the freeway, leaving my safety zone of the right lane. I’ve got my right arm hanging out the window so that I have a trucker’s tan to show off at the next rest area. I want to make sure that I blend in so that my fellow road-masters will let me know where the ‘smokies’ are waiting. I should have bought a John Deere hat…
Noon (things begin to go awry) – I’ve arrived at my Dad’s house in Woodbridge, where some sucker, I mean good friend, has agreed to meet me to load a couch onto the truck. It doesn’t fit, and we have to jam it into the truck at an angle. This wouldn’t be a problem, but I still have to load all of my things into the truck. I’m going to have to pull some of Miss Vikings things off and re-arrange the storage configuration. Years of Tetris are about to pay off.
12:45 PM – It begins to drizzle as I pull up in front of my house in DC. My buddy and I quickly begin to remove the couch and as much of Miss Viking’s stuff as we need to allow the couch to fit back into the truck at a reasonable angle.
1 PM – The couch is on the truck, and as I exit my house carrying an unwrapped mattress, the heavens open. This is not the kind of ‘isn’t this refreshing’ summer rain that you normally expect during a move. This is end of the world, Moses will have to part the seas to cross Wisconsin Avenue, kind of downpour that I expect during a move. Rain drops the size of ping pong balls begin to pelt my mattress. I scurry about, putting Miss Viking’s things onto the truck to prevent additional water damage.
1:03 PM – Miss Viking calls to let me know that she has arrived at our new house. The previous occupant has not removed her possessions from the house.
1:07 PM – With as much cargo as we could get into the truck while a monsoon is raging, I leave my old house and drive to Silver Spring. I’m wet, I’m sweaty, I can’t see the road, and a man in a canoe just cut me off going through Chevy Chase Circle.
2:00 PM – I’ve finally arrived at my new home. I dry off and wait for the movers hired by Miss Viking’s new employer to remove our possessions from the truck. While this is occurring, I pace through my new house, marveling at all of the wonderful things the previous occupant has left for us. I’m now the proud owner of a flower print couch last upholstered in 1972, five bags of aromatic rocks, an entire kitchen of dated flatware, and an odd and disturbing aroma whose origin I can’t locate.
5:00 PM – With the truck unloaded and a long day nearly complete, I decide to relax by driving back to my old house and pack the things that wouldn’t fit into the truck on the first trip.
5:30 PM – Upon arrival at my previous dwelling, Miss Viking notes that her mother’s office desk has acquired several rather visible scratches at some point during the move. I contend that this must have happened when it was originally packed in the truck or at some point during transit. She counters that I damaged the treasured piece of furniture when I removed it in the middle of an apocalyptic weather occurrence. I won’t tell you how the dispute was resolved other than to say that I loaded the truck by myself while she returned to Silver Spring.
8:00 PM – Back in Silver Spring. I shower and drink a beer as fast as humanly possible. Miss Viking and a friend have spent the last 2 hours removing signs of the previous occupant’s occupation from our house. Nothing went like it was supposed to, but it could be worse. I could have moved to Georgetown.
posted by DC Viking at 2:53 PM
1 Comments:
Congrats on the new home, my friend. Can't wait to see some pictures!
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