.......and that is that I do NOT want a career unloading moving vans. It's right up there with stay-at-home-mom-of-twins. At the end of the second day of unloading, I asked our movers if they were all going home to take hot baths. And they all answered some form of "(expletive) YES!" "How do you do it?" I asked. "Do your bodies slowly fall apart until you can't brush your own teeth or do you just get used to it?" And the dude in charge says it really really really sucks for the first year and you want to cry every day - but then you get used to it. Wait.......for the first YEAR???!!! You want to cry every day for the first YEAR???!!!! What, there were no openings at McDonald's? I would do just about anything else (except stay-at-home-mom-of-twins) if my job was that hard for a YEAR!
So we threw money and ice cold bottled water and cans of Pepsi and Sierra Mist at these guys who so willingly (and pleasantly, I might add) shoulder our burden so we can start a new life half way across the country. That being said, a sizable percentage of our stuff arrived broken, battered, irretrievably dirty or otherwise ruined. So unless you want some new furniture, I advise you stay put. Some ancient relative of mine wisely declared that 3 moves equals a fire; if we add up the things that are broken, destroyed or mysteriously vanished, it would probably equal the contents of our first house. We play this game called "Hey, where's the (fill in the blank)?" Every box is unpacked, literally everything we own is in plain sight, and we still can't find things. Where's my turntable??? That is not a small thing that could be easily hiding under a pair of pajamas! I found my Helen Reddy album and I really need me some "I Am Woman!" It's probably sitting in a ditch on some Pennsylvania highway. Or maybe there's some truck driver in a New Hampshire warehouse listening to Helen Reddy right now. If you really need to move, I say torch it and get an IKEA gift card.