I shall attempt to rectify this situation now with some much needed updates beginning with the long awaited Tales from Moving Day.
Wednesday: I picked up Ryan around 10:30, which was only marginally later than I would have liked, but since I was pre-coffee, it was expected. He apparently answered his phone moments before my arrival thinking the caller to be me, but instead it was his honey-diva. I bet she was unpleasantly surprised to be called Booboo. Then he had to explain that he thought she was me and of course that led to the inevitable question of why do you call Maya Booboo. *shrug* No harm done, though, so whatever.
We got lost on the way to finding the U-Haul rental. Naturally. A quick trip to Tim Hortons and my handy cellphone and we were back en route. Renting was certainly nothing like the hassel I had at the airport when I tried to rent a friggin' car, but that's another story. I was more than happy to let Ryan do the truck driving since he grew up on a farm and had driven more trucks than I ever have (and since I've NEVER driven a truck, it was hardly worth debating). The truck moved at a snail's pace, which is to say, bloody slow. We began to call her such horrible (yet somehow affectionate) names like, Sucking Whore, and Guzzling Bitch. I can hear MS. Magazine screaming at me right now.
Packing took quite a bit longer than it should have, but I suppose I'd gotten a lot less done than I'd imagined. It was a righteous mess, too. Over the course of three hours, Ryan and I moved all the big stuff out of my appartment and into the truck. Let me take this moment to comment on the amazingness of this feat just due to the narrow width of the stairwell. Holy ! Ryan and I should be given medals of courage (or great stupidity) for our amazing achievement. We called Carrie and she came over too, for which we shall be eternally greatful. You see, though her stature is small, her help literally kept Ryan and me from experiencing the falling-off of our arms.
Putting stuff into storage was more pricy than I think it should have been, but by that point there was no other option. Insurrance is important, and though it seemed like I was only storing maybe a thousand bucks worth of stuff, it was a good deal more. My art books alone, those which were stashed in storage, probably value at something close to 1500$. I own a lot of fantastic books and most of them did NOT come to Al and Carrie's. Did I mention getting lost on the way to the storage place? No? Well, we got lost. I had Ryan turn right, not left, and we ended up most of the way to Etobicoke before I said, "I think it's the other way, let me call and find out." By the time we got to Al and Carrie's appartment, Ryan and I thought we were going to die. Much juggling of things in the elevator ensued, with somone always guarding the stuff and/or holding the elevator doors open. Al was home by that time and he dragged my stuff into the appartment while Ryan, Carrie and I did adventuresome things in the lobby.
Dinner was not remotely healthy. I gave Al fifty bucks and said, "Order." He asked, "Pizza?" I replied that we'd all had pizza for lunch so we settled on KFC. I know, I know. GROSS. Utter grossness. That said, for once in my life, the idea of grease-slicked chicken-parts sounded like the most delicious thing a person could eat. Ryan and I dropped off the truck (more getting lost while looking for a gas station that sold diesel) and arrived back at the appartment just as Al returned with the KFC ungoodness. Yum. Finally, though exhausted, I was not about to let Ryan make his own way home, no matter how much my body thought he should, so I was a hero and drove him home.
The night was not finished, yet, though, by any means. Nosirree. I came back to the appartment and had to set up my room, or at least make it livable. I did it very quietly so as not to wake up my new flatmates, and Pepper, their cat, was most helpful.
I woke up the following morning, to a blizzard. Yay. Which meant that when I finally made it to the store, I had to shovel. To add insult to injuries (like my muscle aches having aches), I dragged Rick back to my appartment in order to shlep out the last bit of crap from my place on Manning. Again, there was more crap than I'd anticipated, but he was helpful. I decided to leave that stuff in the car in the parking garage when we reached the appartment building, though. At that point, my body had threatened to file for divorce from my soul and I wasn't up for a further battle.
More stories to come as the gumption arrises.
