Truck You
Today I offer a short photo essay regarding the object that wrecked my life made the big move possible: Ye olde moving truck.
Even the selection of the truck was a source of consternation. The U-Haul website said that the 24′ truck was for a “3 – 4 bedroom home.” That’s a verbatim quote. Since we had a three bedroom home, my wife thought this was a logical selection.
Yet, there I was, like Oliver again, somehow wanting more.
When you stop to think about it, moving is taking yourself and all of your stuff to a new address.
–Tom B. Taker, philosopher
The biggest truck you could get was the 26′ truck which was billed for “4+ bedrooms.” I wanted that truck. Like I explained to my wife, loading always takes longer than unloading and a bit of extra breathing room would allow us to avoid a real life game of Tetris with our precious belongings. Besides, I reasoned, the larger truck was only 10% more cost, about $265 vs. $240.
FYI: The loading to unloading ratio was about 10:1. Every 10 hours of loading time required about one hour to offload. I know because I was there with a stopwatch yelling, “Eureka!”
In the end we went with the larger truck and guess what? And guess what? Our humble three bedroom abode didn’t fit. We had to leave shit behind and strap my Trek mountain bike to the hood of my wife’s car. And, this was my wife’s brilliant idea, the cat’s litter box had to ride in the cab of the truck with me. I shit you not! (The poop tag requirements for this post have now been satisfied.)
We are owned by our precious possessions, but that’s another story.
Keep on truckin’!
About 1/3 loaded. Tetris blocks are beginning to confound.
In the photo below we see the fully loaded masterpiece. Note: This is before we crammed in everything we had filling in every nook and cranny more than a Thomas’ english muffin.
This photo documents one of the happiest moments of my life. Virginal status has been restored.
Abyss Island: Taking Inventory
There are pros and cons to everything, I guess. On one hand I’m stranded alone, a forgotten castaway, forced to live on nothing but beans and rice. On the other hand, there is reduced competition for my parking spot. (meekly) Yeah, me.
So here we are. Day 36. Only three more days to go. Rather than wasting my time doing tai chi on the beach, I thought I’d take a few minutes out of my busy schedule to catch you up on the comings and goings of the indigenous peoples on Abyss Island.
Joy for you. Yet another post where I talk about myself. Who said this blog doesn’t have a theme? It’s me! Me, me, me and an extra serving of me! And me for dessert with sprinkles on top.
That’s just sick, really.
Let’s approach cautiously lest we startle the beast.
Last we heard our intrepid Survivor had won a reward challenge…
Continue reading →
Shouts from the Abyss 
Recent Comments