Anyhow, we're now in town. 3 houses to Zoe's school, 2.5 miles to work. Plenty close for commuting by bike or by running.
The relocation, all of 15 miles, was harder than the marathon.
A buddy agreed to help me load the U-haul; we had a tiny, TINY two bedroom condo to move. When we moved from the East Coast, we brutally downsized ourselves from a 4 BR house and basement into a 2/1 condo which the vacuum could cover without unplugging. Literally.
So the morning of the move, I had packed about 15% of the truck starting at the crack of dawn, when I realized I'm still alone.
Me: "Hey man, where are you?"
Him: "I'm about to take down a buck." As in hunting, as in 200 miles away.
Pause: "I thought it was NEXT weekend."
Hmmm.
A couple of friends in town said they can help unload if need be. Yes, I need be.
Okay, our neighbor is here on vacation. He helps me move the big stuff. 7 hours later, it's packed full. We'll have another trip to finish up, but we can do that with the Subaru. Drive 15 miles, meet the guys, and an hour later the truck is empty. Sweet.
Return the truck, then drive the car and a borrowed pickup back. And back. Last trip ends at midnite in a freezing downpour, and we're still not done.
6am next morning, it's up and off for a McMuffin and what I hope is the last load. More rain, and I'm exhausted, so the last bit of stuff just gets thrown under a tarp.
Done. My feet are toast.
Fast forward a couple of weeks. All unpacked, finally able to breathe, and it's time to do what I've wanted to do for 12 years; organize a garage.
And the first project was the most important one:
Then it was time to build storage.
That green thing is a tandem kayak, something every family should have. Unless you don't want one. The skis are slid below the cabinets and above the bikes; life in the Navy gets one accustomed to creative storage.
More shelves, and everything is finally put away.
First carpentry project in 12+ years, and all fingers are still attached. Score!
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