Oh Boy, Oh Boy, It’s Moving Time Again!

Aw, nerts!!  (I used to have a rather impressive array of expressions available to show my disgust but have now settled in on nerts.  No idea why.)  It’s moving time again.  Fortunately, not for me but nevertheless involving my pack mule capabilities.

My oldest step-daughter, 19 going on 20, is making a short move across town to a more convenient location.  Found it herself, paying for a portion of it, eager to do it and ready to go.  She lived in the last place for a year and it worked out, but not great.

Now baseball kind of pushed me into a semi-nomadic life.  There is one state left in these great United States that I have not at least sat on a runway.  It will be visited before the last inning of this existence, and I have the baseball tournament in mind to get me there.  Not sure when it will happen, but the bucket list seems to be growing longer and the time shorter, so maybe next summer.

By calculations rather loudly announced to me at the end of my first exposure to wedded bliss, we had lived in at least 34 abodes for 2 months or more.  That would usually involve a place for two months of spring training, a rented home in the city where I was working for six months, followed by the off-season home in the city of our choice, and there were some great ones.  San Francisco, Chicago, St. Louis, Milwaukee and Detroit have all served as home base.  Cleveland and Montreal were just rentals.

Actually, the Cardinals to A’s to Cubs move all happened in about 14 months, which would have been a good year to own United Van Lines stock.  They had a very profitable year at our expense.

Anyway this one will only be about 4 miles or so, which hopefully will just entail a 14′ rental truck and a days work.  Unless my buddy with the pick-up truck and trailer is available and reads this, which brings us to the point of available manpower.

He is a horse, six years older and I can’t keep up.  Works a full-time job (although hardly works might be more appropriate. Ha, take that!) and just goes crazy with other projects, his and others.  I happen to know he will be sitting somewhere on the job reading this and now I won’t have to put us both through the painful process of asking for help with “the move.”  He can “volunteer” or not, and while I know he will, he has already gone above and beyond for me in the past.

I did help out another member of our regular golfing crew move his mother in the same fashion we are going to and that would seem like an easy ask except he, literally, had a heart attack as we were moving.  Ambulance time that day so he is not a possibility. Not going to have him fall out on my watch.

Another golfing pal (better pal than golfer. Ha, take that!) is supplying a great deal of the brain and prayer power behind the rather late reorganization of my life so I am very hesitant to cut into his thinking time.  Plus, he’s kind of a little fella so….

Please understand that while it sounds like I am ripping on these potential helpers a little bit, these are the same guys that as I am standing over a two-foot putt to see who is buying the soft-drinks afterward are telling me to “get it close!”

It actually should be a pretty easy move, because after all, how much stuff can a 19 year-old girl accumulate, right?  Uh-oh.  And I’m guessing there will be a discussion on how or why boxes are better than garbage bags, too.  And what should go in first so it can some out last as opposed to what is necessary and whose priority it is.  And how involved the dogs and the cat should be on moving day to keep us cheerful as they are underfoot.

There is one day in the next 18 before the move that is not committed to, sometimes out-of-town.  It also happens to be our first year wedding anniversary, so that is pretty well spoken for!

I suspect there will be a few more items that pop into my head regarding this particular endeavor, so there may be more coming.  I am guessing that  moving day will provide some laughs, so a re-cap may be in order.  Stay tuned!

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