It’s Day 59 of The Great Move of Two-Thousand and Sixteen. Those last numbers appear to represent the number of boxes we continue to pack and unpack and repack with our earthly possessions. As of today, our belongings are in San Jose, in a POD somewhere in the Bay Area, remnants are sprinkled about Los Osos and then of course, most of the bare basics are now in San Luis Obispo. This inventory doesn’t even include some box of books my mom is trying to get me to move out of her attic. If only I had the strength…
Though all of our strategically planned life goals have fallen into place including a new house, new jobs, new school and a new car (we just threw that one in for the sake of completeness), the smaller logistical details have been well… less smooth. First there was the UHaul truck debacle two Friday’s ago. Apparently reserving a truck on UHaul.com is just a virtual suggestion and when it was time to go get our truck, James was told he’d have to pick-up and drop-off in Oakley. A destination that technically appears to have little blue specks of the East Bay on a Google map… but those may actually just be irrigation ditches in the Central Valley. After some good old fashioned customer service ranting, he found a yellow Penske truck in Santa Clara and disaster was averted.
On moving day, as I was taking my gazillionth trip back to the basement, I saw a dog run into my backyard like she knew exactly where she was going. A quick scan and James would have sworn I was hallucinating. But, there she was… hiding in the corner under the bamboo. No one claimed her along my street except the mysteriously new delusional lady who tried to give me some old cassette tapes. Just what we needed on moving day. Fortunately some animal rescue ladies showed-up several hours later and took our little growling stray away. Everything else went pretty smoothly, except the part where James’ credit card was stolen and used online at Best Buy… the most likely culprit being the savior turned suspicious Penske truck place.
After a brief respite in Los Osos, we’re now sleeping for real in our real beds in the “Mountain House” as Nate calls it. A few hiccups like our pans not working on the induction stove (we can live on cereal!) and recycling not being offered on our road (we’re building a giant artistic sculpture dedicated to moving titled Paper Mountain). I’m sure someday I’ll stop using a wardrobe box as a nightstand.
During the first week of Y camp, the boys made tie-dye shirts. As we searched fruitlessly for Nate’s new $7 wardrobe statement piece, I asked him where it could be. And he told me, “Check the Temple! It must be in the Temple.”
Which turned out to be the school gym… a lot has certainly changed. Good news is, Nate’s still Jewish.