Wednesday, January 21, 2009

Packing complaints

I wasn't born in Tennessee, but I spent the vast majority of my life right here in Knoxville. Truth be told we moved here from North Little Rock when I was six months old and didn't leave the house we moved in to until I was twelve. For the next five years I lived in the country with my parents and then my (now ex) wife and I moved into the house I grew up in. I think that moving was no big deal to me all those times because I didn't play a hand in the real moving process.
When the wifey wanted to move close to where I worked in Oak Ridge, I caved and we got an apartment. It wasn't smart since the house we lived in was rent and mortgage free. I was a good man though and wanted to keep her happy. It was a burden but we moved and for the first time I came to hate both living in a place I didn't own and the entire moving process.
A while later the company I was working for went under. We tucked tail and moved back out from under the pain of rent. That move was less fun than the move in had been. We left a huge mess behind us. To top off all of that I ended up paying the rental company $1500 to replace the carpet and fix damage we caused moving out. I started to hate moving even more.
The wife and I split up and the kid and I stayed living with my parents for about a year afterward. I was pretty happy as far as it went living in the country and having my parents around all the time. The only catch in that plan was privacy. In true male fashion I let my penis lead me into trouble and I moved out into a house we had previously left rented. Luckily this time the most painful part of the process was made easier by A) I only had to move 1 room full of my stuff and B) I had my own truck! I still didn't like to move, but damn it not having to be total silent while getting busy made it worth it. I like to be vocal damn it!
The house I live in now was my destination. I have lived here (with the exception of time lived in Europe) for the past 8 years. Truthfully I have never completely moved ALL of my stuff out of the place since I moved in years ago. This is home and I am very thankful for it. The fun part of that was though two years ago, when it came time to move to Germany, anything I wanted to take with me had to be at my parents house when the movers came to load. I spent several weeks ferrying my stuff back to my parents place and I left behind stuff that I could do without.
The growing pains of getting cleaned up and ready for the movers to come was a bad experience in and of itself. Most of my closest friends completely bailed on me and I was left doing not only my own doing but also getting my Mom, Dad (who already lived in Germany but had left all but two suitcases of his stuff here), and my kids stuff ready and packed. I managed it but it took my hatred of moving to a new high. Or so I thought!
I unpacked in Germany and was genuinely happy with the job the movers did. The only real mistakes that were made were that a few boxes meant for Germany were sent to Storage and vice versa. Nothing was damaged and it wasnt too much of a pain in the ass to unpack. I was happy enough to have my stuff that I didnt hate the moving too much.
I left Germany first. I don't have any inclination to discuss the hows or whys. Just take it as fact that I came home last year carrying two suitcases. The majority of my earthly goods were left with my family. Later when Mom decided to come home the German moving company showed up to pack it all up and send it home. I was worried about the situation because I wasn't involved, but at the same time I took comfort that I was only dealing with half the frustration of moving.
The Germans who packed us up were morons. With all the vast majority of things in my families belongings they grouped the dumbest things together. I can only imagine the thoughts going through the head of the guy who was packing the Anvil. "This guy has a freaking 55 pound Anvil. What the bloody hell am I going to pack with an anvil? Wait didn't I have a 25 pound weight earlier? Wow it fits. The box weighs 80 pounds now and its not even a foot square. What a clever mover I am!"
While I am glad he didn't pack the anvil with, say, my Grandmother's china, still it amazes me that someone really thought it was a good idea to pack to two together. The cowboy hat and the bongo drums came out of the same box. I still haven't managed to find my guitar. I had sort of expected to find those two things together. Especially since the hat was hanging on the end of the guitar case. The bongo drums were not even on the same FLOOR as the Cowboy hat.

While it maybe true that I am not technically moving, I still am not having much fun unpacking. Granted it gave me something fun to blog about. I could really do without the boxes stacked to the ceiling in three rooms of my house. Well, I had better get back to it.

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