Moving Mayhem

I have moved many, many times in the years since I first left my parents house. It was mostly within Gainesville and roughly the same sized apartments. Leaving Gainesville meant going from a 3/3 to a 2/2 in Orlando. We downsized a lot. It felt good to clean out some of the things that we don't use and it was very entertaining to have out stuff magically disappear from beside the dumpster in a matter of hours.

The move to Panama City Beach seemed daunting because of the six hour drive. For a frequent mover like me, collecting boxes, recruiting my parents and packing quickly are not terribly scary anymore. Only in my dreams would a move involve actual movers and moving truck drivers. Well, folks, my boyfriend and his fancy company hired a company to get our goods from Orlando to PCB in 2 days flat. The majority of the packing was done by myself and Ryan in the early stages of the move. Boxes were stacked high and the apartment was in a general state of chaos.

In the midst of it all, Ryan found ways to keep things light-hearted and romantic. He constantly gave me little hugs and kisses and reassuring reminders that someway, somehow we'd get through the move happily.

On Monday afternoon, we drove down to Orlando to get the rest of the apartment packed. We were exhausted physically and mentally by the time we hit the sack that night around 2:00am. We had more packing to do, but exhaustion prevailed. The movers were scheduled to arrive sometime between 8-10am so we planned to be up and packing around 7am. I have never used a moving company before so I had no idea what to expect. At about 9 a knock on the door announced the arrival of the movers (a.k.a - our new best friends). 2 guys would haul the loot into the truck and 1 lady would do the rest of our packing for us. They told us the best thing for us to do is grab a cup of coffee and sit down somewhere out of the way. All of the miscellaneous knick knacks would be swept into boxes without any help from me or Ryan. Who knew about this amazing thing? I always operate under the mindset that if I can do it myself, why pay for it? Why? Why? Movers and their amazing skills make me rethink my position.

We decided to leave them to their work. We went all around town wrapping up our last minute errands and taking one last trip to Ikea (duh!). When we got back the apartment was completely empty. Shocking. Wonderful. Effortless. Love it. Tuesday we checked out of the apartment without difficulty. That night we were only lucky enough to get about 5 hours of sleep before we had to drive out to the apartment to meet the movers. Once again, they came through and did all the work. They put things where we directed, insisting all the while that we not help at all. Fine by me.

Our lives in a moving truck:

Before the storm:

After the truck exploded:

I'm very excited about the apartment. Once all the boxes were crammed into the space, my heart began to sink a little as the space seemed smaller and smaller. As we sort through the boxes and uncover the rooms, I feel less and less claustrophobic.

And finally, a growing stack of empty boxes: (don't worry we'll be taking them to the local recycling place!)