The Perils of a Slow Move

Almost warm evening air cools my sweaty skin as the car door slams behind me. Eyes lock on the bare walls beside the front door of the apartment building.

Argh—no box! Please, oh great delivery driver, please have left it inside!

Smooth asphalt slips beneath my hurried sneakers. Sparks of conversation drift down from glowing windows. At least they’re happy, enjoying their dinners and evening television and knitting while I’m searching for our new TV! Will I be able to haul this monster upstairs? How heavy—

My toe hits the curb and refuses to move forward.

Pebbly cement fills my vision.

Shit.

Perseverance and luck landed us in the perfect position for a slow move from our house on the golf course to a new apartment. Twenty-two spacious days to make the move across town.

And since most of our things remain in storage in North Carolina, one generous carload each day transfers everything but our two recliners and bed while allowing for the balance of work and life. At the end, I still have seven potentially industrious days to clean without all of our things in the way.

Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh.

But the bottom line is that anything we didn’t need until we moved the furniture in fourteen (thirteen, twelve, eleven…) days got to go in the car-car for a trip-trip to the new home-home.

Tchotchkes first!

And books, of course. Always with the books, me. Why do I get carried away by hardbacks?

Sturdy but fashionable pottery plates and bowls (my new everyday china!) purchased on sale over the last two years snuggled into our new cabinets.

I land heavy on a place.

Each afternoon, the moving witch works her spells through the house. Boxes of wine and yarn vanish from under the bed. Our corner of the basement empties. Winter coats and clothes disappear.

While my magic transports anything that can fit in the car to our new place, my sweetie orders the new pieces we need to set up our home. Cable and internet, a refurbished vacuum that promises to suck up all the dog hair, and a new television make up the first list.

We needed to be at the apartment for the cable and internet installation, so we coordinated the delivery of the television for the same day. But even the moving witch can’t make those two things coincide.

Unfortunately, even after waiting all day, this television didn’t show up until seven hours after the nice young man installed the internet.

At the five hour mark, I piled my sweetie and dog into the car and went home for dinner.

We got notice at 6:45 that the TV would be delivered at 6:49. The apartment is fifteen minutes away.

I know you see the problem.

Zip-zip-zip! Into the car and off like a cheetah back to the apartment building. All I could imagine was this giant heavy box waiting for me to drag down that long hall to the apartment All By Myself. Ugh.

The lack of a delivery truck in the parking lot told me that I was too late for the driver to help me. Argh! My eyes scanned the walls beside the front door as I sped across the lot and—

My purse landed opening first. Ugh. Why hadn’t I zipped it closed? Pain shot through my hand and knee as they hit the rough surface, sacrificing themselves to save my face. And thus vanity proves more powerful than usefulness. Dammit.

Face down on the cool cement, pain and embarrassment rolled across my body. But no footsteps rushed, no voices called. Wonderful, blessed silence. No one had seen. No one had heard.

I rolled over and closed my eyes. Breathe. Just breathe. You’re okay. And nothing is going to change because you weren’t here when the delivery driver arrived. You knew you’d miss them. There’s no need to rush. Why are you hurrying, you daft thing?

A body scan revealed that things were probably not as bad as I’d thought they’d be when I was falling. No deep pain in my ankle or knee. And the pain felt more on the surface in my hand and elbow as well.

After wrangling my purse chaos back into order, I discovered the television box under the intercom panel beside the inner entry door. It weighed less than Mack, though a bit bulky. I dragged it up to the apartment.

Then a meticulously careful drive back home for tea and television with my honey.

The moral is, the moving magic happens in the slow, steady pace, and no amount of rushing will make you on time if you are already late.

And, for best results, ingest arnica tablets and apply the cream topically for pain relief and overnight healing.

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