On Saturday, August 26th, Grace and I moved to a new place. After looking around a bit and even considering a move back to the city, we decided that we love Burlingame. Because we wanted to remain walking distance to downtown, we ended up finding a place just 3 blocks away on the other side of Burlingame Avenue. However, the distance traveled was not a measure of the effort – what a colossal pain in the ass! After a couple of weeks of packing (mostly Grace), moving day arrived. I’d say we were about 90% packed by the time the movers showed up, but it’s always that last 10% that kills you. It’s a good thing we did most of the packing, because they only sent three guys. I don’t know how we amassed so much crap into our two bedroom apartment, but even after discarding about 10% and giving away about 10%, all of our stuff did not quite fit on their huge truck – it was close though, as they were able to strap the overflow to the back of the truck with the liftgate raised.
I’ve blocked most of it out by now, but the most memorable part was watching them fail at getting our monster couch out the front door. I didn’t want to tell them how to do their job, so I stayed out of it, but if me and Warren were able to get it in, the three of them should have been able to get it out. Their solution was to send it over our balcony (2 stories up!). I was certain one or more of them would be maimed or killed in the process, especially when the guy in charge was barking instructions at the other guy who had apparently never attempted this, but who also had one end of a large strap tied around him as the other end was tied around the monster sofa-sleeper while it teetered over the edge of the railing. I could hardly watch. In the end, only the landscaping harmed (for which we were promptly billed by our diligent HOA).
We’re so glad we moved, but at the same time, we never want to move again.
