Month: November 2010

Project Egypt Vehicle is back on track. The shipping company has the faxed copy of the title and as long as our registration has us listed as the owners of the vehicle (it does) we will be able to ship it out on Friday.

Even before the news from the DMV I was feeling relieved because Dad said he would deliver the car to the shipping yard for us if we had to wait for a new title. That way I wouldn’t have to endure a year of, “it would be fun to do ______, if only we had our car . . .”

Yesterday was full of cleaning, cleaning, cleaning. My hands are totally beat up from using steel wool to try and scrub the stovetop grates and from pulling weeds in the yard. Technically not weeds, just mint. Lots of mint. But it is so invasive and burrows so deep in the ground it is essentially a weed. I didn’t even plant it. I composted cut up pieces of it. It didn’t compost. It took root and grew all over the yard. That’s what I get for trying to be green.

Today is sit around and feel like Scarlett O’Hara with a plantation full of slaves while the movers do all the packing. It sounds luxurious, but really it is just a day of feeling lazy and in the way. I always feel bad sitting and watching the packers work, but I can’t leave and I can’t help. I should just embrace it and get someone to massage my feet and bring me food on a silver platter while ordering everybody around . . .

Way back in the spring of 1998 little newlywed me and my friend Jill went to a moving class to prepare for our first military move. Here we are, happy and naive.

 

We were treated to horror story after horror story of how packers will wrap up and pack *anything* in their sight, household garbage, your car keys, cell phone, the oven racks (that belong to military housing, not to you), and there was even the unfortunate tale of a cat that was packed in an overseas shipment. (and yes, it died. ick.)

The purpose of the horror stories was to scare us straight — so we wouldn’t become the central character in our own Moving Tale from the Dark Side. And I would have called myself Queen of the Move: until today. I’ve pre-planned and packed and organized and decluttered to the point that every packing and moving day has run like a finely choreographed ballet. The cat contingency plan is that before the movers arrive, she is locked in the master bathroom with food, water, her litter box and any luggage that is going with us in the car. Every time. The image of unpacking a dead cat is one that has stuck with me. *shudder*

I was confident, cocky even. I thought I could master the Overseas Move since I had proved my abilities in 7 previous moves. New baby? No problem. I’ll wear her on my back. I can do it all. And then, I failed. Complete and total belly flop.

It started this morning while I was scrubbing the stove (prepping for our move-out inspection, #437th thing to do on my list), there was a little tickle in the back of my brain that something wasn’t right. I was forgetting something . . . what was I missing? I remembered holding some important papers in my hand . . . where had I put them? And then I saw myself holding the titles to both of our vehicles and thinking, “we will need this in Egypt” and PUTTING THEM IN THE FILE FOR THE MOVERS TO TAKE. Now this wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing except the tickling in my brain was telling me, “you need the title to the car or you won’t be able to ship it to Egypt.” So I went upstairs and asked, “we don’t need the title to ship the car, do we?”

And then there was a teensy bit of yelling and a teensy bit of crying and in the blink of an eye I went from SuperMover to one of those people. The ones they warn you about. The ones who call the moving company, begging and crying to get into their shipment and the movers laugh and tell them, “Too bad. See you on the other side.” The ones who unpack a mummified cat. The ones who have to pay to have their cars rekeyed. The ones who are bad movers.

****the next part of this story involves a trip to the DMV and lots of praying and begging. To Be Continued . . .

Our move is 2/3 over. We still have too much junk. And dust. Lots of dust. But I’m eating candy cane Joe Joe’s so it’s not too bad. Have you had them? They are Trader Joe’s oreos with crushed candy canes mixed into the filling. YUM.

At least we still have our TV and DVR so I can watch TV as I erase pencil marks from the walls. Caleb did it soon after we moved in (along with busting a set of blinds and the towel rack in the bathroom) and I haven’t gotten around to getting rid of them until now. I told him he had to get an eraser and help me since he put them there and he said, “I didn’t do it. Some other kid did.”

The movers took our mattress so I can go sleep in the bed in Calvin’s room or sleep on the floor of my room and watch Judge Judy and The People’s Court as I fall asleep. Sad that I’d rather have TV than a bed, huh? We have a room at the Navy Lodge for the rest of the nights, but I’m going to miss the soothing voice of Judy and Marilyn as I’m drifting off to sleep. I’m getting a little punchy again. It’s almost time to break out another poem except Camille just woke up, so no poetry tonight.