Get Moving! The Musical

Imagine, if you will. A slow crescendo . Violins, surrounding you with their infectious melody that leave you gasping for air. Sweet, tasty air. Thus, moving day has swarmed upon us. The day of the damned.

Over the course of the month, we have been moving things from the apartment to the house. Everyday (or so...) I would finish work and head over to the apartment to pick up a few things. And that was the song and dance of the month. In the end, we rented a Uhaul to end this monster, once and for all. Boy, we have a lot of crap.

We purchased the smallest moving truck, believing after all we've moved that we have only a few items there. Yeah, the closets weren't done. Emily's room was half full (i'm an optimist!). There. Was. Stuff. Everywhere. I swear, things I thought I had already taken were there. It's almost as if the landlords, upset about our departure, broke into our house and stole the stuff we moved and put it back into our apartment. Like how the Grinch stole Christmas. But with landlords.

It ended up being two trips before we got everything in. I put together a few stats from the moving day:

- Times traveled up three flights of stairs: 108
- Times purposely moved in front of Kirsten to keep her from doing something: 1,028

- Times it looked like Kirsten was going to punch me: 134.5

- Number of bags moved: 30

- Number of boxes: 20

- Number of items I tried to convince Kirsten we didn't need: 300

- Number of items I had to pack because we "needed it": 299

- Percentage of stats that have been made up: 99% (one of these stats is true, try and guess which one!)

In the end, we were both happy it was done. Everything is now here, and not somewhere else. We came home, ordered pizza, filled our cups with root beer, and celebrated a successful move. Hugo Weaving is awesome, by the way. I'm only mentioning him because I think it's hilarious that there's a tag on our site for him.

Cheers, fellow readers. May your dreams take flight. I have to go walk the dogs.