The Saga of the Move: Part 2, or “The Stuff I Own Strikes Back”

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(Read Part 1 here.)

We now had more problems than we’d started out the day with: not only did we no longer have the use of TG’s truck to get rid of some of the big stuff, including the mattress and box spring, but now we had to work on getting the truck to Courtenay Car Centre and getting it fixed.

We worked on the second problem first. Mom arranged for her and TG to wait by the truck for BCAA to tow it to the car place (this is two days later). She would then come down to Nanaimo to help me, as well as somehow cramming my massive mattress into the Pegasus (her Volvo station-wagon; mine is the Galactica — yes we’re giant nerds).

I was expecting mom to arrive at my place mid-afternoon, but she was several hours late. Apparently she and TG had waited in the blistering hot sun for BCAA for over two hours. They couldn’t call, because his phone was out of minutes, and she’d forgotten her phone at home. So finally she drove around in search of a phone she could use, and called BCAA again, asking where the hell they were, and it turns out the original request for a tow had gotten lost in the system. She arranged for them to tow without her presence, which for some reason hadn’t been possible before (yay silly company policies), and then came down to my place.

She’d instructed me to fold my mattress in half and tie it with rope. It’s all foam, so this was feasible…just not easy. She walked in to find me lying on top of it in an awkward position, shouting more bile and vitriol at the thing than I thought I had in me. She came and helped, and with our combined fattitude and lexicon of swear words we got it done.

Being fat can be incredibly useful when one is moving or packing a very full suitcase. I’m just saying.

We then dragged the incredibly heavy mattress out to the car, along with a bunch of other stuff that was to go to Powell River. At this point I was feeling a certain level of despair, because every time we moved more stuff out, the house didn’t look any less full. It was like everything I owned multiplied when my back was turned. (Especially hangers. Those things are worse than rabbits whose insurance covers Viagra but not birth control. Political joke high five!) Sort of like that scene in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows where they break into Bellatrix Lestrange’s Gringotts vault and everything has a Gemino curse on it. Actually, exactly like that. And then I rode a dragon to freedom.

But, you know. Perseverance. It’s a virtue, or something. I’m not actually sure; I lead a life of vice, not virtue. But I digress!

We continued on, despite the lack of truck making it so mom had to take extra trips between Nanaimo and Coquitlam. She worked really hard during this move, and if she liked gifts like flowers or chocolates I’d give them to her in thanks. As it is I think she just wants me to work hard on her books and stuff, so I’m going to do that. I guess.

Eventually it became apparent that there was no way we could get everything either a) to mom’s place for storage or b) to my new home in time. I was planning on getting out of there on Thursday, the 30th. I needed more time. I needed a TARDIS. I decided to go undercover at a weight loss company so the Doctor would rescue me. I didn’t have one, and I missed my deadline by a long shot.

Not to mention, getting stuff out of my old place and up to the car in the first place is difficult, to say the least. It was made harder by mom having Tyee with her on her next trip to my place, because the dog has anxiety issues and can’t be left inside a house or a car for any length of time.

First, to get out of my place you need to navigate whatever it is you’re carrying through a haphazard arrangement of furniture towards the front door — which is higher off the ground than the rest of the floor. One step out, you immediately turn right to go up two more steps, and then walk up a sloping sidewalk along the side of the house to the gate that separates the front yard from the back yard. This gate opens towards you, and once you’re through it you must navigate a path through bushes towards the gate to the driveway. We were doing this at night and there is a motion-detecting light — but it only turns on if you waggle your butt at it rather flirtatiously, and that’s hard to do with a spinal injury, let alone with a spinal injury carrying furniture and/or boxes to the car. The next gate opens towards you again, and this time you must open it, get the stuff out, and close it so it latches without letting one-hundred-and-twenty pounds of rambunctious, anxious, abandonment-issue wolf bound through you out the gate to the car because dammit, he’s not letting you leave him behind.

This takes…strategy.

We started two piles outside. One was the Coquitlam Pile, and the other was the Storage Pile. At this point, the Storage Pile was going to a carport belonging to some friends — most of it is still there, actually — because we didn’t have time to get it to Powell River or Coquitlam, and my friends were nice enough to lend me their space. Part of the Coquitlam Pile was going into my car, into mom’s car, and whatever didn’t fit with the stuff I’d already pre-packed for Pirates and Fairies and the stuff she crammed into her car was going to sit with the rest of the Storage Pile at friends’ carport.

Then mom would do a car load for the Storage Pile and whatever else was going to the carport, while I’d sit in the yard with Tyee on a chain lead (if you look away for a second while he’s on the leather or cloth one, he eats it). Mom would load the car with the gate propped open, and Tyee would sit and watch very carefully. Then she’d take off to unload the car at my friends’ place, and he would pace and whine anxiously while I did more packing and moving of stuff to the yard.

Once we got the bedroom empty, I cleaned the hell out of it, and that followed for the other rooms. I had to borrow my upstairs neighbor’s vacuum cleaner because my vacuum cleaner broke a long time ago and I hadn’t had a chance to get it fixed or get a new one.

By this point, it was Friday evening. We were hoping to be out Saturday morning so I had a chance in hell of making it to Pirates and Fairies before I died.

That didn’t really happen.

But this isn’t even the entire story — before Friday evening rolled around and we worked all night through to get everything done on time, mom was dealing with her own clusterfucks in Coquitlam.

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