Monday, July 30, 2012

The First Ever Jane’s Domain Trilogy. (Watch Your Back Star Wars!)

I hope I’m not sounding like a broken record here, but I thought I’d write one more blog about our house hunting/buying process. We’ll call it my trilogy, okay? 

Hey, it worked for Star Wars

Not that I’m comparing my little blog to Star Wars or anything.  I think Star Wars raked in a buck or two, while my little blog has raked in, well, nothin’.  Zip.  Zero. Bupkus.

Hmm. So, um, why am I writing this blog again??  Oh yeah, simply because I like to write.

Well, anyway, let’s see where I left off last time.  Ah yes – I was discussing proper footwear and the state of one’s pedicure when house hunting. 

So the other important thing I learned when house hunting is this: location, location, location.  

Never heard that one before, have you? 

Nah, I’m just kidding.  Everyone has heard that one.  Even newborns.  If they had the ability to speak seconds after their birth, those would be their first words.  (Kind of a scary thought for their moms, though, huh?)

But I digress. 

There were lots of steps in between removing my shoes at the entrance of a complete stranger’s home and guiltily peeking in their closets and cabinets to choosing a house and then finally moving into it.  Maybe I’ll write more about those steps at some point (which totally shoots my trilogy plan), but I’m going to go with the biggest lesson of all in the house buying process.  And that is:


Sorry for yelling, but it’s that important.  You need to hire professional movers even if it means you have to sit on your dirty carpet for two months after moving in because you have no extra money to buy that coveted leather sectional that would go perfectly in your brand new living room. 

I hired professional movers over 10 years ago when I moved into my townhouse and swore I would never personally carry boxes into a new abode again. 

So I stated this very opinion to my husband.  Rather emphatically, I might add.  He nodded.  He seemed to understand my viewpoint.  And then he proceeded to rent a truck from U-Haul.  He hired his football player son and his son’s football player friend to haul boxes from our old place, into the truck, out of the truck and into our new house.

Now, believe me, I’m not slamming their efforts in any way.  Those kids worked like machines most of the day and did an amazing job.  But it simply wasn’t enough.  Perhaps an additional strapping football player or two was needed for the job, but we were fresh out of available football players.  So it took several more car loads throughout the following week to get all our stuff from Point A to Point B. 

And we had a few casualties, of course.  A wine glass here and a decorative vase there.  Fortunately, no heirlooms were harmed during the moving process. 

But none of that was the major problem.

The major problem was that I had to haul boxes right along with my husband and the boys.  And that is precisely why I wanted to hire professional movers.  You are not required to lift a single box when you hire professional movers.  In fact, they frown upon such interference from an amateur such as myself.  And, frankly, I am more than happy to be an amateur in any heavy lifting situation.

Had we hired professional movers, I would have been cheerfully unwrapping the china while sweaty men with the couch strapped to their backs asked me precisely where I wanted it positioned in the living room.  And all I would’ve had to do was point. 

Instead, I was a hot, sweaty, stringy-haired mess.  By the end of the day, I was clutching my aching back with one hand and throwing boxes clearly marked “Upstairs Bedroom” into the entryway of the house with the other because I refused to make another trip upstairs.

And my aching back lasted for days.  Weeks, even.  Oh, who am I kidding?  My back is STILL aching.

Moreover, I had so many bruises on my arms and shins from carrying heavy boxes and, in my exhausted state, running into walls while I was carrying those heavy boxes, I looked as if I had gotten into a physical altercation with someone.  

If I had, it probably would have been my coworker who smirked at me and said, “All unpacked?!” the morning after we returned the U-Haul truck.  Fortunately for him I don’t resort to violence in such situations.  I just do the withering stare thing that is oh so painful for the recipient.  Not.

Alas, we didn’t have any time to unpack before we had to pack a weekender bag and head to Cape Cod to celebrate my parents’ 60th wedding anniversary.  Originally, it seemed like an inconvenient time for a mini-vacation, but in the end it was good.  Good to spend time with family.   Good to have the chance to celebrate my folks' 60 years of wedded bliss.  And good to allow the healing process to begin on all those bruises.  (My almost 9-year-old niece, by the way, gleefully counted each and every bruise.  She probably would've played connect-the-bruises with a Sharpie if I'd let her.) 

And she drew today's blog illustration.  If you can't see it clearly, the heading reads: "Hint: Don't  look like this after moving." And I think - but I'm not positive - that her Aunt Jane caricature is missing her right foot. 

Hmm.  Perhaps I exaggerated the whole moving experience just a tiny bit?

No.  No, I didn't.  



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