Moving is an adventure I’ll never undertake again
Years ago, U-Haul used the slogan “Adventure in moving,” which I guess was their way of trying to put an enticing spin on a period of time through which most normal people wish they could simply fast-forward and be done with already.
I always thought U-Haul would have been better served with the slogan, “The most boring, noneventful move in the history of mankind.” No one wants to recall stories like:
“Remember that time we were moving across Kentucky and that dresser fell out of the back of the truck, and that truck carrying all those hogs slammed into it and flipped over? Now, that was an adventure in moving, wasn’t it?”
“Sure was! And we had some great roadside barbecue that night!”
I’ve had a few of those moves over the past 25 years that required packing rented moving trucks. It’s tiring, but I don’t think it’s as tiring as moving across town using a pickup truck and a small trailer. That requires just as much lifting but a whole lot more back and forth. It seems almost never-ending.
Over the past couple of days, my wife and I, along with the kids and a couple of good friends, have been doing the whole back-and-forth thing across town between a rental house and our new home. It’s been tiring, especially in the hottest fall weather I’ve ever seen. But there’s one caveat that makes this move better than all the rest:
This is the last time I’ll move until I’m moved by the coroner, who, no doubt, will be paid off to say, “Well, looks like an accident to me — I mean, it’s not the first time a cast-iron skillet has fallen on somebody’s head and killed them.”
“Yeah, but he was sitting on the sofa.”
Indeed, this is my final residential move. We’ve got a simple, modest new home, but it’s got every little detail we ever wanted. It’s not huge, but it’s not small. It’s just right. And since we spend all of our time on the back porch, the kitchen and in the great room, that’s where all the space is.
The kitchen is designed exactly how my wife wanted. I’ve got an office where I can write or, when I have writer’s block, grab my electric guitar and amp to play every rock song I know — or as some folks would refer to my entire repertoire, “Wild Thing” by The Troggs.
I’ve still got a few things I’ve got to grab from the rental. We’ve got a fish who is being dumped on, um, I mean donated to a teacher who wants it for her classroom. My wife has about 16 boxes taped up, and opening them will be like Christmas because she has no idea what’s in them. And I’ve got my day-planner, or, as I call it, “things to avoid today.” Oh, and I forgot my kayaks behind the shed! Then again, if it never rains down South again, I probably won’t have any creeks or rivers to put them in anyway.
Regardless, one thing is for sure: I am definitely never moving again. If my wife ever wises up and kicks me out, it won’t be considered a move for me. I’ll get a $5 nylon hammock, tie it between a couple of trees in the woods, and I’ll consider myself moved into wherever that might be.
But you’ll have to drag me kicking and screaming out of this house. And if anyone tries to get me and my stuff out of here with a U-Haul, a pickup truck or trailer, I assure you they will indeed have an adventure on their hands.
Connect with Chris Johnson at kudzukid.com.
This story was originally published October 3, 2016 at 9:05 PM with the headline "Moving is an adventure I’ll never undertake again."