****Sorry… this is a long one, but you’ve got to read it… especially if you are thinking about moving anytime soon****
So we made it to Phoenix… I am sure you are all aware. I want to fill you in on the HORROR that I like to call relocating to another state. SO here is Part One… The Movers
Everytime I have ever moved, I have packed my own crap and loaded it all up onto a uhaul and drove to my happily awaited destination. It’s no walk in the park, but it’s pretty straight forward, and any problems were my own damn fault… I couldn’t blame anyone for my packing techniques or lack thereof.
Since this move was due to a promotion for DH (Dear Husband for those unaware), his company was footing the bill… so why the hell not call someone to move our crap for us… I of courese would packup the small stuff, I had nothing better to do anyway - except maybe blog on myspace. Besides, packing would give me something to complain about - and we all know women aren’t happy unless they have something to complain about.
So weeks before the big move, I had contacted a moving company and they were going to come and give us an estimate. The day DUDE was suppose to be here he called to get directions to my house.“Are you familiar with the Elk City area?” I ask.
“You’re in Elk City?” DUDE questioned, “I was told you lived in Duncan.”
“Nope, Elk City.” I reaffirmed.
“Well crap, I will call you when I get back to my office and see if we can put together an estimate over the phone.” I told him that was fine… against DH’s wishes for a walk through.
When he finally called me and asked me what all was going I went through the inventory. He asked me about my TV and I told him that we had one of those expensive flat screens (maybe I failed to mention plasma… but I have no clue about this shit)… and my table is heavy, metal (rock on!) with a glass top… he said “Oh”.. .that was it, and gave me my estimate, etc. I told him I would talk it over with you know who, and get back with him.
I talk to DH, and he says he still wants a walk through, but to go ahead and schedule pick-up etc. SO… I call the company back and say we’d like to move the week of the 11th, and that I still want a walk through, etc. He said he would probably be out around Thursday (which was the end of the week) and he would let me know, but get the paperwork sent out to me.
Thursday gets here… no DUDE, but I assume (yeah, I know) everything is fine and in good standing. I get a call from the company that says the movers will be out on the 11th and they are set to delivery on the 18th. WOAH! Where is my shit going for a whole week? Is this right? Well I don’t know how it works, apparently the driver takes several loads at once, and it takes time, you know. So we make arrangements to stay at the hotel across the street from DH’s work downtown for the end of the week/first of the next. We decide that we will take our time driving both vehicles with BOTH kids to Phoenix and we will leave maybe on Wednesday and get there Thursday evening.
Saturday I get a call from the company that says the movers will be here Monday afternoon. The have a load to pick up in Tulsa and would be in the areas sometime after lunch. I knew better, being Tulsa is a good 4 hour drive from Elk City. I decided to make Monday kiddo #1’s last day of school that way he wouldn’t be in the way while the movers were there. He has the tendancy to talk to anyone about anything, ask the lamest of questions, and give out more information than is neccessary. He is the king of TMI.
So, Monday comes and drags on. I have been fighting with kiddo #2 to stay off boxes, and out of everything, all morning. She is relentless. My mother was out of town and to return sometime that evening, and I was praying (not the norm) that she would get home early. I go and get the other kiddo out of school and take him back to the house… where I have to fight him to keep him off of boxes and out of everything… bleah
4 o’clock and the movers arrive…
Wait a minute… I can’t take that TV or your table top. WTF? And… apparently he has very little room on his truck. The company was suppose to send someone out to crate our Television, and he didn’t want to be liable for it. He’s not going to take my Vintage King Kong poster either, and he was told we had about 5,000 pounds and he was sure we had close to 9,000, and he won’t be able to get it all on his truck.
DH is in a rage, and I am just sitting in disblief. He immediately gets on the horn to the moving company. DUDE tells him I never told him we had a plasma TV and the table, blah blah blah… They are yelling at each other, and I am like.. just forget it… Let just rent a uhaul and load it up. DH says there is no way we can move that furniture ourselves into a 3rd level apartment. He’s right… and I don’t say that often.
Meanwhile, the movers are trying to make a second level in the big truck parked in front of my little house to try to get our shit in it.
I think this is when I blacked out… if I did, cause I really don’t remember what happened, but they worked it out where someone was going to come and crate up our TV, and part of our stuff was going to be put on a second truck and taken to the warehouse until it could be put on a driver’s truck who happened to be coming out our way. I am still in disblief, and totally pissed at DUDE for calling me a liar, etc. Oh yeah, by the way, both kiddos are completely restless, and getting hungrier by the minute. Both vehicles are trapped in my driveway by this BIG ASS truck, and I think I even saw one of my neighbors flip me the bird.
FINALLY… my mother gets home and comes and relieves me of my rabid children. The weirdo that came to crate my tv shows up about 10pm… and he is cutting 2×4s in my front yard, usuing the bottom of one of my reclyners as a saw horse. It’s a good thing we wouldn’t be there much longer, because his sawing and hammering at 11:00 wasn’t winning us “The Best Neighbor of the Year” award… neither was the running 18 wheeler on my narrow street.
SO… crate guy loads the rest of our crap onto his truck… which is going to the warehouse… which we may never see again… bleah. He has my table, King Kong, book case, bikes, trikes, and some other stuff… I don’t think we will ever see it again.
Midnight… they are gone, and we are headed to my mother’s… Both tired and sore… totally worn out - exhausted.
After baths and toothbrushing, we were ready to retire. As I lay there in my mother’s bed, which she gave up for us to sleep in, I about how shitty the day was and rambled on to DH, “Today has to have been my worst day ever.”
“Yeah, I never want to do that again, I knew we should have had them come out first.”
“Well… we will know better next time… I never want to do this again though, but I can honestly say it can’t get worse than this… so we’re going to be ok.” I laughed
“They still have to deliver our stuff.” he says.
This is getting waaaay too long… I am going to break it down into several parts and try to post them for you…