A Belated Post on Moving

In moving, there comes a strange moment when you can’t remember which house you’re in, what you would see if you looked out the window, and where you would be if you stepped outside. . .

And then you realize you’re not actually in Gervais, you’re in Newberg, and you still have half a day of packing staring you in the face. But you smile anyway and reach for another fistful of Lucky Charms and another wrinkled sheet of wrapping paper, and you pull yet another mug from the cupboard and put it in yet another box and are so grateful that you have a husband and that he has brothers and that they are the ones who will carry all these heavy boxes out of your pretty little house for the last time.

I like moving.

It’s having two houses, both of them a mess.

It’s looking through cupboards yet again and hoping you still find them as empty as you thought they were.

It’s eating dry Lucky Charms because you moved the fridge the day before and forgot to leave yourself any lunch.

It’s a somewhat mindless returning to Facebook over and over again because you’re so tired and just want to sit somewhere and do nothing.

It’s being overwhelmed.

It’s the crinkling of paper as you wrap endless glass.

It's eating lots of fast food (and coffee [and ice cream]) cause the cooking things are packed and you don't have time to cook anyway.

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It’s boxes everywhere.

It’s hoping you get everything packed in good time because there’s no way you’re spending another night in Newberg with the newest tenants—the bugs.

And speaking of the bugs, it’s throwing a mattress on the living room floor for the last night you’re there because the bedding is freshly washed and you don’t want to risk taking any bugs along to the new house.

It’s desperately needing coffee but not having it because the milk was bad and the coffee maker’s already packed.

It’s hoping your pretty glass platter that you’ve never actually used doesn’t get broken before you get a chance to use it.

It’s dreaming of where you’ll put everything in the new house.

It’s eventually throwing things here and there just to get them out of sight—silverware in the bedding tote, pills in a lunch box, hand towels and dish cloths into all available nooks and crannies.

And then it’s trying to remember what you put in each box so you can meticulously label them because you’re leaving on a trip and need to know where everything is so that when you come home in a week and want to make waffles you know just where the waffle iron is.

It’s apparently bad for your health because we at least haven’t had so much junk food and so little sleep in a while.

And last but definitely not least, it’s made much simpler by willing, hard-working family and friends.

We can’t say thank you enough to everyone who pitched in and got us moved in in a week. The work involved in getting the Newberg house ready to leave was like nothing compared to all the work there was to be done at the Gervais house. There were holes to be patched, spider webs to be swept down, Home Depot and Lowe’s runs to be made (and plenty of them), walls to be painted, plumbing to be fixed, cupboards to be cleaned, shelves to be lined, floors to be mopped, sockets to be wired, trim to be heat-gunned, carpets to be ripped out, doors to be painted, doorknobs to be wiped, stoves and dryers and washers and freezers to be moved, stove hoods to be installed, showers to be cleaned, everything to be cleaned, boxes to be brought inside, singing to be done, smiles to be shared, and more. But it all got done, and when we finally moved in last Wednesday it felt like an entirely different house than the one we bought two weeks ago.

And then we promptly left on a trip, and I haven't had a chance to blog about it since (which is why I'm sorting through moving pictures instead of trip pictures), but that's beside the point. The point is, it’s amazing what a little hard work and a whole lot of time can do to transform a place.

Thanks, everyone.

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Everything had to be covered before Dad sprayed the ceilings, and the kitchen took on a strange "Miss Havisham's house" quality, with plastic draped like spiderwebs.
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A somewhat malfunctioning sprayer and a hardworking dad got the job done, but some of it had to be done twice (sprayer's fault). 🙂
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A little blue mummy appeared somewhere along the way.
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And the picking of paint colors begins......what a jumbled mess of colors that look nothing like what was on the card once you put them on the wall!
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I was overwhelmed enough to threaten to paint it all white, and Eric said just so long as it wasn't all blue, but we ended up with a red bathroom and a blue house. Hmm. So much for all white and no blue.
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I just like this picture. It's the quiet before the storm.....ceilings to be resprayed, walls to be painted, messes to be made.
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All ready to paint, only to realize we needed to go to Home Depot instead. We ended up not doing a lick of painting except for the bathroom floor.

Like I said, we had so much help. . .

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Eric was taking off plastic trim the night before, and when he pulled out one of the screws, a stream of water followed it. Needless to say, he was busy ripping up floors and fixing pipes for a while.

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And then it was finally time to move.

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Ian and Alex came and helped us load up Eric's truck and trailer and Ian's truck and Dad's trailer.

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Both of our families then came over to eat supper and help unload everything.

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And then it was suddenly done, and everyone was gone, and we were left with relief and a mess and a desperate need for a vacation. Which we promptly took. 🙂

That vacation means we got home yesterday to a messy house, but boxes unpack and counters clean and blinds hang, so we'll turn this place back into a home in no time. And in the meantime, I'll be over here at my in-laws', using their wifi and wishing for coffee and posting a post that has too many pictures and not enough words but that suits me just fine.

I like moving. Now to un-move. . .

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