My daughter moved from one apartment to another today. That means I was appointed as a helper girl. Helper girls do as they’re told. They only make recs if asked (and then do so reluctantly). They stay positive and focused. I think I was good at my job!
This move was different from her other ones in the past because . . . she hired professional movers—woo-hoo! No, make that WOO-HOO!!!!
I remember the first time we moved her from home to college. We jampacked her hand-me-down SUV and my husband’s SUV till only shallow breathing could occur. There was literally no room to take a deep breath! We arrived to triple digit heat (I don’t remember—nor do I want to remember—what the heat index was. Let’s just say it was incredibly miserable. The fires of Hell seemed appetizing after that day).
Countless trips were made from a car that was parked almost a state away. At least it seemed that far away since everyone was moving in at the same time. Legs became dead going up and down the stairs a bazillion times. I think it’s a corollary of Murphy’s Law that all college dorm elevators immediately go out of service when they sense freshmen families approaching.
How we got everything she brought into that tiny dorm room is beyond me, especially when you factored in her roommate, who had massive loads equal to what she had brought, that needed to be placed in the other side’s half. Still, we did and I felt so satisfied, knowing we’d done a good job and she had all she needed.
Until it was May. And we had to reverse the process. And then August. And we did it again. And so on and so on and so on and so on . . . you get the drift. We moved her from dorms to apartments to houses and back home several times. And again from apartment to apartment after she graduated.
But today she finally saw the light and hired pros . . . not that I don’t consider myself a pro after all those moves! These 2 guys were quiet, polite, unassuming, and fast. Strong. Like machines. They could dismantle a bed frame before you blinked twice. They had dolleys and pads and shrink wrap. They also had an elevator at the new place, so things went swimmingly.
My role? Helping to take to the cars and bring up the stairs clothes. My daughter is like every woman in America—she never has anything to wear. Last week, she brought over 3 ginormous trash bags of giveaway clothes for charity. And still we made trip after trip today with her clothes. I may have nightmares tonight of dresses or sweaters on hangers chasing me across parking lots and up staircases!
I also got to help unpack boxes the movers brought up—kitchen items, toiletries, etc. I was the take it out of the boxer, while she was the put it in the cabineter. That system worked pretty darn well. I also stacked books and DVDs on her bookcase. She can sort them out later by alphabetizing or grouping them by color or whatever her little heart desires. We got the bed made, which always makes it seem as if you’ve made a lot of progress. Placed magazines put on the coffee table. Everything came together fairly quickly. Not that I won’t be a little sore tomorrow, but my usual on a scale of 1-10 exhaustion where I’m feeling about a 17? Nope. I think I’ll be fine in the morning.
I believe I’ll have 2 prayers tonight—1—that she doesn’t move anytime soon—and 2—giving thanks for those movers!