Two days ago, I drove from Fresno to Sacramento, left my car at a friend's house, and then took a two-hour flight on a very loud propeller jet to Portland, OR. My husband was moving from Portland to Sacramento and I was going to help him with the 10-hour drive.
We got married a little less than 2 months ago and I have been excited about this move since before then. This was to be our first time living in the same city since 2007. So I bought my ticket at least 2 weeks in advance to arrive in Portland. Here are some of the things I told him:
"Please be packed by the time I get there. I want to go eat and then hit the road."
"Home Depot is a good place to get boxes. And tape. You should start packing now."
"I called your apartment and arranged to have the walk-through at 3:30pm. I get in at 11:30am. Please be packed."
"Don't forget to sell your couch on Craigslist, Babe. Please be packed."
"We pick up the keys to our new place at 10:30am on Saturday, so we have to leave Portland by midnight at the latest. Let's start packing!"
Note: I am stupid.
I arrived in Portland around noon. We arrived at his one bedroom apartment and what was packed? Close to nothing. And I knew that it wouldn't be. I should have cancelled class and arrived the day before! Later he told me that he thought it would only take four hours to pack. It took more than 16. The shower curtain was still hanging up. There were many clothes in the closet. The dishes were still in the cabinets and dishwasher.
As we were packing, I noted that there were nine USPS boxes filled with clothes that he wanted to take to the Post Office.
"Babe, it's Veteran's Day." Guess what's closed?
So off to UPS we went with USPS labeled boxes. Then later to Fed Ex. Then later later to UPS (again).
Back at the apartment and somewhere between UPS-Trip One and Fed Ex, I asked, "What are we going to do about this couch?" to which he responded, "Leave it by the dumpster." It was a really nice couch too. So I left the apartment.
I walked around in 40 degree weather looking for someone, anyone. There was a man on his balcony smoking. "Excuse me, sir, do you want a couch?" He looked at me like I was nuts. "No, thanks." I said, "Okay, thanks anyway" and walked away.
Two p
oint five seconds passed before I heard, "What color is it?"An hour later the couch was gone, sold to that stranger for $100. His name was Mark. And he had cash. Praise God for mercy and gas money.
We finally made it to Sacramento. We left Portland about 6:00am and the sun was just waking up. The walk-through never happened, but someone will do it on Monday. We may or may not get back his deposit, and at this point, neither of us cares. We also missed our appointment to get the keys for our new place, but it was rescheduled. We moved his things into our home in Sacramento about 6:00pm on Saturday.
"See, I told you it would work out. Just like I planned it," said my husband on the drive down.
I just looked it him and tried to act like I was mad.
Note: The pillows in the picture were thrown in the dumpster.
