Relocation

Moving is a hard business.

Not only does your body and material wealth change location; your spirit and soul gets uprooted and replanted. It takes a stressful, agonizing toll.

R and I rented a U-Haul for phase one. As we pulled away from the rental location we noticed a whistling sound coming from the passenger window. The faster we drove, the louder it got. It was like that eerie noise you hear in the rafters during an intense wind storm. The driver's side door also didn't close properly and I could see daylight through it. Later we found a leak inside the cargo area. I must say that the radio worked splendidly.

When we arrived in Miami the first drops of rain began. We looked at each other as if to say "Don't say it." R's loads were to be taken down an elevator, through a parking garage and to the truck on an adjoining street. It was a bit of a trek from his 20th floor apartment. By the second load, the rain was pummeling us. A comforter was thrown over everything and sopping wet. As we finished loading, the rain stopped. Again we looked at one another: "Don't say it."

As we drove back to Fort Lauderdale to drop his things and prepare for my move, the rain increased. The skies opened up and a monsoon exploded. The street was flooding in low spots.
We waited for a break so we could rush to my place and load items. Friends were on standby. Finally the skies were only misting. There was a mad dash to the truck. We jumped in. The truck wouldn't start. The "Don't say it" look washed over our faces except this time it was a bit more pronounced. The beginnings of werewolf characteristics formed. The rental company people were of little aid. Our landlord jumped the truck with some very old and somewhat precarious cables. A half hour was lost but we were off. As we pulled out, the rain returned to Victoria Falls water levels. The only thing to do was to proceed in silence and numbly focus on what lay ahead. We didn't even try to look at each other.

Let's say that the experience of getting possessions from my old apartment to the new was similar to an episode of 'Sea Hunt.' My friends Mookie, Don, Angel, R and I were drenched to the marrow by the time we got everything in the truck. Somehow we managed to keep most of my stuff dry during the transfer. Conditions could not have been worse, short of a hurricane. Our helpers left and swam to their cars. R and I shared a cup of hot tea as we dripped and shivered on our shiny, tile floor. After a tasty pizza and a hastily prepared bed, we slept comatose until the following morning. A challenging day had been conquered. (I was especially proud of myself for not flying into a fit of rage and drowning.)

But that was just the 'literal' move. As I said, one's whole being takes abuse during relocation. There is a sort of malaise that intrudes. Being overwhelmed with details, timing, costs, trying not to fight plus the persistence of endless boxing. Your body aches in places you didn't think it would. Hating yourself for a life of collecting pushes you to realize you wish you only owned a toothbrush, bed and maybe your IPhone. The life you inhabit transforms into this insidious monster that consumes you for a week or so. My psyche felt like it had an ulcer. My inner being was both paralyzed and running a marathon. In short, sanity was dangling precipitously close to the edge of a very tall cliff. It was taking all my strength not to back up the dump truck and shuck it all into some very dark and deep canyon.

It's amazing what a good night's sleep will do after a satiating pizza and a hot shower. The reprieve was temporary. There is still a daunting amount of work to be done (I haven't even gotten my stuff out of storage. That comes this weekend but I have movers....) However, the unearthing and reestablishing of K & R has been accomplished. All that rain we got a few days ago just needs to go into the watering can. Sprinkle it on and let the new life sprout.

Also, try not to think about moving again for a very long time and definitely "Don't say it."