Sunday, August 30, 2009

Tiffany and the Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Move

















All of this packing up and unpacking has me thinking about moving. This is the longest we’ve ever lived in any one place and it’s a little strange not contemplating the next move. Though I do dream a little (a lot) of coastal breezes or at least a big-enough house along the river, I really do like my little house on the corner. We may not be moving soon but some days, like yesterday, I feel like renting a jackhammer and a conveyor belt, grabbing a shovel and digging out more space under our super-massive kitchen addition. All the kids could have their own rooms down there. But I’m no contractor and this is just a flight of fancy (as far as you and the City of Richland know).

Our moves have always gone one of two ways: a) Professionally (where movers arrive, paid for by the new employer, and lovingly pack everything including the garbage) and b) Hopelessly Unprofessionally. Our last move, from rental house to our current digs definitely fell into the latter category.

Hoping to avoid the only downside of professional movers (unpacking boxes of garbage), I carefully sifted through our things and packed up what we could live without for a few months. I scavenged boxes wherever I could and rented a storage unit. I thought I was so on top of things. I guess I was compared to the people selling the house.

This was sort of an unorthodox deal. Tia knew we were looking to move out of the rental and heard the folks living here had purchased some property and would be building a house within the year. I loved it from the outside and being a few doors down from Tia would be awesome! I cold called these folks and asked if the rumors were true.

I think the guy thought I was crazy but he agreed to let us take a look. Before long we had earnest money down and a moving date. It was over five months out but they were calling the shots and didn’t want to move into a temporary location.

I had this smooth as silk vision of our move. I’d done all I could. All except ask our new ward for a little muscle. That would’ve been smart because you see, the owners insisted we get the house sold and handed off the Wednesday before Memorial Day. Remember, they were calling the shots. And locating friends available to help move on Memorial Day weekend? Ha!

So we closed on the Wednesday. I was sooo excited! But guess what? We had no keys. They still lived there. From the street we could see pictures still hanging on the wall.

Thursday comes, still nothing. I’m panicking because I’ve got people from our soon-to-be old ward showing up to help first thing Friday morning before heading out for whatever it is people do on Memorial Day weekend. Friday arrives and they begin to move out. We begin to lose available help.

My parents came to help because this is what they do. They help with a capital “H”. The few people still able to lend a hand began hauling things over and dumping them on the lawn. In retrospect I wish we’d just paid for an extra month’s rent on the house and the unit. It would have allowed for time to clean the house and to stay the heck out of their way.

So anyway, I’m trying to clean and people are hauling things over but despite my best efforts it was still a massive job. Now comes the icing on the cake. My parents worked tirelessly through Sunday then decided at the last minute, after hauling the last load, to drive home to beat the holiday traffic. This was around 10 p.m. and that’s a good 4-5 hour drive. I was already asleep but had I been privy to any of this I’d probably have hidden their keys or thrown a fit or something equally useless. But, as police and hospital records can attest, I did not.

I woke the next morning to a call from a nurse at the hospital in Morton informing me that they’d been in a wreck. Dad fell asleep at the wheel somewhere between Packwood and Morton and they were both pretty banged up. This is where the blessings started rolling in. Friends volunteered to take care of the kids, my Visiting Teachers organized a group of ladies to clean out our rental house, and it just so happened that my brother Tom was about to start a job in Olympia. That may seem like no big deal to most people but the boy is a Harvard-educated business consultant who hasn’t worked anywhere close to home since he graduated from college. He and I were able to get them to their doctor appointments and get them settled and sorted for a few days. Somehow those two convalesced and were fit to attend Tom’s wedding a few weeks later.

This move was the worst but I can’t deny that when things were really BAD, God was really GOOD.
Posted by Picasa

4 comments:

  1. I am so sorry to hear that your parents were in an accident. :(

    I hope they have a quick recovery!!!!

    George

    ReplyDelete
  2. I guess I should have added that this was four years ago;)!

    ReplyDelete
  3. Wow, Tiffany! I had no idea that the move was so eventful! I didn't know you then like I do now or we would have been more helpful!

    ReplyDelete
  4. i remember.....just how did you survive?

    ReplyDelete

So, what do you think?