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...... - Paint It Black
Living the American dream one heartbreaking piece at a time
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The move was accomplished on Saturday exactly as planned. I put in a reservation on Thursday with Penske for a 15 foot moving van, and it was ready and waiting for me Saturday morning exactly as promised. If you have to move, skip those heartless baboons over at U-haul and just go talk to Penske. Penske has better rates, better vehicles, a wider selection, greater availability and they aren't evil incarnate. The only snafu that I encountered was minor -- they didn't have any furniture pads (I was planning to use them to wrap my art in) even though I had put in a reservation for a dozen of them. However they more than made up for it by locating two dozen pads at the Penske near my current residence, which I was able to pick up before hitting the highway. Even more awesome was that I paid nothing for them. Zero. Nada. Zilch. They were completely free as Penske's way of saying "we're sorry." That, friends and neighbors, is what I call customer service done the right way.

We got to the house at around 1:30, almost perfectly on schedule. roho and enveri are positively divine for lending a hand with lugging my furniture up the stairs from the basement -- they didn't have to do it, but they did. The surprise of the weekend was that Matt (one of the grillers from BD's we see on a regular basis) actually showed up to lend a hand with the move. He had volunteered to help me move on Wednesday night during my weekday excursion with Kestral to BD's for a midweek low-carb Tasty Dinner. I appreciated his kind offer but didn't seriously expect him to turn up -- the whole deal carried a vibe of "too good to be true" for me, so I was pretty much prepared to go it with a minimal crew. But to my immense surprise he did indeed show up, exactly as promised. He was just the thing we needed to get all the furniture and boxes out of the cellar within the first two hours of the job, too. We probably could have gotten it done without his help... but we most certainly couldn't have gotten it done in such a short period of time. It probably would have taken two days to lug all the furniture up without somebody falling over from a stroke.

I spent a lot of my time trying to figure out why this fellow was helping me -- I may be a regular at his restaurant, but I am essentially a total stranger. Yet here he was, bigger than life, grabbing one end of the couch with me and helping shover it up a flight of stairs and through a rather difficult hallway. No matter what angle I looked at it from I couldn't make any sense of it. There had to be some sort of motivation here, some sort of reason as to why he was lending me a hand. Ever heard the phrase "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth?" Well, so have I. Let me tell you, I was in there with a flashlight, a book on equine veterinary medicine and a magnifying glass. My answer came when I found out he was a student of Trinity International University. After he told me he was attending an evangelical divinity school everything became clear: he was playing the part of the good Samaritan -- and he did an exemplary job of it. He really was a great help to us, and he didn't sermonize us once. He talked about what he hoped to do after school (teaching, I believe it was), and we shot the breeze about his home town (he grew up near Pappillion, Nebraska, an area I am passingly familiar with) but not once did he breathe a word about matters of religion. On those grounds alone I think I'll nominate him for sainthood. He was only there for a few hours before he had to leave for work, but his help was certainly felt and deeply appreciated. Kestral is planning to make him a home-cooked meal for dinner as a thank you, and as a starving college student Matt evidenced a great interest in food that doesn't have the word "ramen" in it. Unfortunately I think my plan for compensation will have to be scrapped, knowing what I know now I suspect he's not a person who's fond of beer and games of pool. Maybe I can simply redeem myself by lending Kestral a hand as she cooks the "thank you" meal.

So now it's two days after the Great Move and I'm woefully, heinously, outrageously sore. It hurts for me to get in and out of bed. Getting in and out of my truck is akin to climbing Mount McKinley. The steps at the office? Let's not talk about those right now because I'm happier pretending that they simply don't exist. Unfortunately for me my legs are playing second fiddle to the continuous fire that is raging in my arms and wrists. I presume that yanking and tugging at heavy objects is responsible for my current state of misery, although I'm sure that the awkward contortions I had to assume and the decidedly non-ergonomic placement of my hands so as to cradle and shove unwieldy furniture into compliance also lent a hand.

I mostly want this sensation to quit lingering and move on down the road into history. If this doesn't recede soon I suspect I will be digging into the backup supply of painkillers that I keep for when I'm battling a migraine... otherwise I don't know how I'm going to sleep tonight. I laid awake for three hours last night just staring at the ceiling and counting down the time until my alarm would go off while I held my arms as still as possible in the splints. I would really like to avoid having to resort to narcotics tonight to prevent a repeat of last night, but my resolve is quickly slipping -- above all else this has got to stop if I'm going to get through my workweek.

I digress, however, since I was originally writing about my possessions. As of this point everything I own (minus five computer monitors and what little I brought with me to the current apartment) has been removed from neowolf2's home and is now safely secured in the storage unit 36 miles from my apartment. For better or worse most of my art is also in that storage space, and I'm doing what I can to keep from thinking about what the summer heat and humidity will do to the repligraphs or the lithographs. I'm working even harder to keep from thinking about the originals that are stored there, and what damage the canvas might undergo under the relentless force of the weather. Maybe I should have gone with climate-controlled storage... but I can't afford to pay those prices if I want to keep saving money and have even a crumb of hope of achieving my dream of being out of debt and a homeowner (of course the whole homeowner thing is up in the air right now anyway, so why I'm worrying about it is anyone's guess).

It's just better if I don't think about the possible loss of that much money and three years of my life. There's nothing I can do about it right now, so I might as well just move on, right? Somehow it's not as easy as all that. Twelve thousand dollars of investment, time, love and memories. Twelve thousand dollars. If you say it enough the figure starts to lose meaning but the concept of "a lot of money" remains relatively undamaged. Twelve thousand dollars.

Twelve thousand dollars.

Between the way I feel physically and the way I feel emotionally I have not been in a very good mood at all since Saturday's move. I have been irritable, uncommunicative and generally "blah." This is stupid! I've managed to overcome a major obstacle (the move) and walked away from what could have been a total wreck of looking pretty good thanks to the help of friends and acquaintances that I barely even know. Let's face it, the worst that happened was that I got sore muscles.

So why has this left me so blue?

I met a man from Mars

. o O o .


Posted about 12 hours late because LJ was being broken last night.

Current Mood: sore sore
Current Music: Hot Butter - Popcorn (Techno Mix)

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Comments
gen From: gen Date: April 15th, 2003 01:13 am (UTC) (Link)
You would be very suprised at how many seminarins enjoy pool and beer.

Sounds like he was a good example of his breed though. Talk is cheap and the best thing you can do is speak through your actions.
tuftears From: tuftears Date: April 15th, 2003 06:13 am (UTC) (Link)
Yeah, I hate any occasion where I have to part with large amounts of money or commit to the loss of large amounts of money, such as buying cars or taking on mortgage loans. You never get used to it.
enveri From: enveri Date: April 15th, 2003 06:43 am (UTC) (Link)
I think I mentioned before..

We have room at the apartment for the art.

My side of the closet just has clothes in it, there is nothing on the floor. It'd be simplicity to stack the art against the wall. I don't have that many clothes so that getting to it would be a problem, nor would it be likely to be damaged.

I'd be happy to go back down there with you and load it all up into the trucks.

*squeeze* I think there may be something else bugging you, and the art is just what your mind is stuck on right now.

If you need an ear hon.. you know mine's always available.
hightensile From: hightensile Date: April 15th, 2003 01:02 pm (UTC) (Link)
One of my old roommates went through this recently, too, and you might be feeling the same thing he was, then. Vocalized, it was, "I don't want to be going through all of this yet again. I just want to be done with it all," i.e. apartments, rent, landlords, shelling money out and knowing that it won't ever come back.

He's about the same age as you, too. These things are, on the whole, things that he pushes out of his mind in the day-to-day world because they're very uncomfortable to try and analyse and deal with.

The advice that I gave him was that it won't last forever. Things may not have worked out for this year, but they just might next year. If you're getting more and more uncomfortable with the current situation (meaning paying rent, not the living situation) then you will continue to change things (your lifestyle, essentially), trying harder and harder until you are forced to succeed by default.

Good luck!

--kit
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