This one wasn't just a regular crappy move, it was a giant kick in the junk.
I'm kind of worried that all the drama was the universe's way of telling us not to leave Southern Maryland, but we ignored it, so please no more junk kicks universe, okay?
Saturday started off with rain. Moving in the rain was not something we were looking forward to. I don't really want to put a soggy couch into storage. We went off to run some errands and try to run out the clock on the rain. On our last stop, our car died. Just dead, not the battery, but something else that the tow guys couldn't figure out.
We ended up leaving poor Sonny in Maryland at the dealer and drove to Virginia without her. Which is stressful and weird, but had to be done.
With all the car shenanigans, we didn't end up getting home until 2, the time we had planned to leave town. At this point, we hadn't even loaded the truck yet, but my crazy husband still insisted on cleaning our chairs and couch with the upholstery cleaner. Which is great on one hand, but also frustrating when you're running late.
We got everything loaded and headed out on the road with our pups, our truck, and our now empty vehicle transport thingie. We finally got to Virginia around 9pm and hit up Five Guys for a super late and much needed dinner.
The pups thought they should get their own order of fries.
We showed up to the house ready to chow down and then collapse and realized that my dad had stored the mattress we were planning to sleep on because he assumed we'd be showing up a lot earlier and unloading our truck. So we spent our first night in the house with me sleeping on a futon on the living room floor and Mike on the couch. It was a crotch kick of a day, I tells ya.
Mike headed off early the next morning to the storage unit to unload most of our things and I hung out at the house with the pups. Around 7:30, I walked out to the sunroom to let the dogs out and ended up locking myself out of the house. So now I'm standing in the sunroom in grubby clothes and a pair of my dad's socks (I washed them dad, don't worry) and I have to figure out how to get back in the house. I run down to the basement door, locked. I ran around to the front of the house, through the soaking wet grass, in my socks and all black work out gear, to check the front door, locked. Thankfully no neighbors saw me and thought I was trying to break in.
So I spent the next almost 2 hours sitting in the sun room with the pups, reading my book on my phone until my battery started to die. Which isn't like an awful way to spend 2 hours, but I had to pee and was freezing, and it's not really fun to be locked in a cage no matter how pretty it is.
Gizmo just napped the hours away
Tuffy was not pleased about it.
Mike finally came home and let me out and we set about unloading the truck which turned out better than anticipated because we didn't break anything of my stepmom's in the process.
Mike left for Mrayland to finished cleaning the apartment and checking out with the manager and I stayed behind to unload all our possessions and get everything nice and clean before my dad and step-mom showed up.
Isn't unpacking always so overwhelming? You just stand in your new living room and stare at the sea of boxes and think, "How the hell am I ever going to get this organized and where the hell do I start?!"
I also realized quite late to the game that I was now at this house, with no food in it because my dad and step-mom had been away in Italy for a couple weeks, with no car. Whoops. So I did the smart thing and ordered enough Chinese food to feed me for two lunches and one dinner. I just ate my second lunch, btw, and I kind of want to die. Worth it!
And no, I did not "stage" this photo like a good blogger would
I actually ended up getting everything pretty much done except for the food items that I can't figure out where the hell we're going to put them and the fact that my shoes are literally hurled into my temporary closet in a big, beautiful pile. It was a long g-damn day and I'm pretty excited about how many steps I did considering I didn't leave the house.
Is there any easier way to out yourself as a fat person than by showing your step count on Fitbit? Nope.
Now, I'm working from home and waiting for Mike to come back so we can finish unpacking before my dad and step-mom come home and hope that they don't notice the things of theirs I have already moved.
And just think, we're doing this all again in 6 months.