Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Getting Hitched

Moving is among the most stressful things that can happen in the average person’s life. It may not be at the top, but it makes the list and I have yet to talk to anyone who is overjoyed at the prospect of boxing up their lives and living the chaos of not having access to your junk at one residence and reorganizing at the other.

MM: “Where’s my underwear?”
Mrs. MM: “You packed them. You ought to be able to find them. If not, you just go commando?”

So those are the minor details and time will get us organized again. The real fun is getting people together, filling up that Uhaul and all the goofiness that goes along with a bunch of non-professionals pretending to know what they are doing. Me...I drive the truck and pack the back like a Tetris pro. King size bed at the back, couch here, desk there, fill holes with boxes and try not to break stuff or scratch Mrs. MM's furniture. Remember those luggage commercials with the gorillas tossing around bags? Well, we just can't allow that.

Packing the truck goes pretty well. We manage to get everything we wanted into it plus quite a few items we thought would have to go on a second trip. Down goes the back door of the truck. Our friends start taking off to meet us at the new house and I hop into the cab of the Uhaul, slip the key into the ignition, fire that baby up, put it in gear and step on the gas. Rrrrrrrrr spin the tires as I go nowhere. "What the..." I say to myself as the stench of burning rubber wafts through my nostrils, "how come I'm not moving?"

Out I jump from the cab. Mrs. MM looking not too pleased informs me that we seem to have the trailer hitch stuck on the small rise in our driveway. Shit! High centered in my own drive. I am pissed that I've done something stupid....again.

At this point everyone involved in the move becomes an expert engineer. Neighbor Brian grabs wood planks and a hammer from his garage and starts shoving them under the tires that just don't seem to want to touch ground completely. My mother-in-law starts randomly shoving two by fours around the end of the bumper and calls her husband asking him to drive over with a big length of pipe. I grab a pry bar from my garage (thank God I didn't throw it in the back just to fill a little more space). Mrs. MM puts her driving expertise to good use.

We rock and push and pry and smoke tires and try more wood and gravel and chanting and do an 'unstick my truck' dance. Nothing. We huddle and try more of the same but this time I stick my pry bar under the trailer hitch and stand on it. We move about a half an inch. No one notices but me. So we try more rocking and pushing and gravel. I stand on the pry bar and start jumping up and down on it. Miraculously and through all our efforts we sccccraape off the rise in the drive and are ready to move again....45 minutes later.

Mrs. MM drives the truck around the corner and parks it. When she returns neighbor Brian is putting his detective hat on and analyzing the scrapes the truck's hitch made in the driveway that have left a clear 'N' like shape.

"Looks like he backed up once, scraped just a little on this rise then moved forward and backed up harder a second time to get further up the driveway," he surmises. "That's why it high centered. He made two runs at it to get it more stuck the second time."

Busted.

Yes, I used my best testosterone laden punch to the gas to see how far up the driveway I could get this baby when I parked it. The first effort wasn't good enough, so I did it again. Truth be known I wasn't really surprised when it was high center, I was just hoping to get enough traction to pull it off the rise. As Homer Simpson said in his sing-song fashion - "I am smart SMRT, I mean SMART."

What would a move be without a memorable moment to tell the grandchildren. I bet you've had your own memorable move. Wanna share?

14 comments:

Green-Eyed Momster said...

I hate moving. The worst experience, since you asked, was the move from Clayton Ca to 'Vegas. Long story short, we got some sort of Valium for the cats but instead of them sleeping on the trip, the MEOWED THE ENTIRE TIME. I forgot to pack the kitchen. So, I had bowls and pans and stuff in the cab of Hubby's truck with me, but it was a good thing because I had morning sickness the entire time and had to pull over a couple of times to empty the bowls. The moving truck was too small and we had to leave some of our stuff in CA. We obviously had the truck packed to the limit because it smoked for most of the trip and we probably burned up that motor. If you want to read more, search my blog for my "Las Vegas posts 1, 2 and 3. That's when the fun started. ;)

Hope you are getting settled and you're living your dreams. :)

the walking man said...

Remind me to tell you about the time I got a 32 foot motor home stuck crosswise going into a gas station. Blocking both sides of the towns main street during their rush hour. Of course I didn't back up to try it a second time, once was enough.

Matty said...

Glad to hear you had help, and got that baby moving. I've moved more times than I care to remember. Most of them we did ourselves. The last time we threw in the towel and hired a moving company.

Nessa said...

And you garnered a funny post. Boys and their trucks make funny stories.

Wordless Wednesday - Now That's Scary

The Peach Tart said...

Aw. Well hope the rest of the move went more smoothly.

PhilipH said...

Yep, post traumatic stress almost.

When we sold our house in SW London in 1972 we were heading off to Norfolk and a brand new home. The furniture van had left, the old house was empty. Before I closed the front door I asked my OH if she was sure she'd got everything.
Yes, everything, she said. I closed the front door, popped the keys through the letterbox.

Got into the car. Wifey then yelps: "Oh! I've left my handbag in the kitchen!"

How can I get back in now! Oh, I know - I've left one of the back bedroom windows slightly open. I'd left a ladder in the workshed. Climbed up to the first floor bedroom window. Could not raise the bottom sash window. Lowered the top sash and straddled the window, gripping it hard. My weight on the top sash caused it to come down on my left thumb, crushing it onto the lower sash.

I nearly fainted, but managed to hold on and somethow clambered through the window opening. The pain in my thumb was excruciating.

Closed window; collected handbag; put ladder back and started on our long journey to Diss, in Norfolk.

Driving was a nightmare. My thumb was bleeding from around the nail, swollen and turning black.

Somehow we got to our new house. Refused admission by the agent! Some talk of a delay in completion. Furniture van waiting somewhat impatiently. Frantic phone calls to conveyance solicitors. Two hours later he phoned the agent's office and said all was OK. We moved in.

By now I was mentally and physically in some pain. Went to see a doctor in Diss that evening about the thumb. Hmm... he said. Nasty.

Brilliant diagnosis I thought. Clever doctor.

Tell you what,he said, it's the pressure building up underneath the damaged nail. I can relieve that pressure by piercing it with a hot
needle. That should ease the pain.

No thanks, said I. I just couldn't bear having a needle pushed through. So he gave me some codeine pain killers and I went home.

It healed slowly and a new thumbnail eventually grew.

Moving house stressful? Erm... well, you could say that.

G-Man said...

I haven't moved in 23 years thank God!

Deb said...

Moving is such a bitch. Two years ago I had to hire these gumbas to move my stuff from point A to point B. In the process, they had found many "personal items" (eh-hem) that I had forgotten about. Needless to say, they asked my partner and I if we wanted to hang out with them sometime due to the "items" found.

I had to laugh at, "testosterone laden punch"...! hehe....

enchantedoak said...

Oh, argh! Moving house really is high up there on the stress meter.
When Joe and I moved from LA to our lovely new home here in central coastal California, we had lots of help, as you did, on both ends, and a stupid rental van that chugged up hills at 25 mph. We also had sedated the cats, which oddly enough seemed to have the opposite effect, and they escaped the cat box and wandered yowling around in the back seat all during the trip. That night, surrounded by boxes and sleeping on the floor because we didn't know where we'd put the screwdriver so we couldn't put together our bed, I just laid there weeping. We've made a vow that we will not move again, God willing.
Thanks for the laughter.

kys said...

Thanks for reminding me that I'm going to stay here the rest of my life. I can't handle moving again.

Monkey Man said...

GEM - The visual of you, morning sickness and kitchen supplies. What the side of that truck must have looked like.

WM - I need to hear that story. Sounds like something I would do for sure.

Matty - We hired movers two moves ago and they were the laziest three people I had ever been around. Charging by the hour entitled them their "breaks".

Nessa - A friend of mine insists on buying pick up trucks. When I asked him why, he simply replied "to haul shit". Yes, boys and their trucks.

Phillip - Ouch!! But what a great story. You should copy and paste that as a blog. I loved it!!

G-man - Our longest stay was 13 years in one place and what a pile of shit we collected. Goodwill and a rented dumpster took care of most of it.

Deb - That is hysterical. Once a neanderthal always a neanderthal.

EO - Tools. Yes. Must always know where the tools are.

Monkey Man said...

Peach - We are actually still moving. We have another load of misc stuff but don't have to evac until the 15th.

Kys - Come on....think of the stories you'll be able to write. Give moving a chance.

lakeviewer said...

Moving sucks. I will die in this place.

Lou said...

Funny stuff! I have moved at least 20 times in my married life, and I'm not even counting the times I moved when I was single. We have moved 4 times just in the town we live in now.

Believe me, when you move as much as I do, you take a "minamalist" approach to decorating. There are no attics or basements full of stuff we never use. Plus, I can pack up a house in 2 days flat!