Moved to Tears

I'm sorry, guys. I know that literally fives and tens of you were disappointed in the fact that for the first time ever, I had to miss a blog last night. Are you okay? I'm sorry. It'll (probably) never happen again. I have a great excuse, though.

I was busy.

I don't know if I've told you this or not (I've only mentioned it a bajillion times, I think), but I'm moving, guys. And turns out? Moving is hard. Especially when you are terrible at it, and your house has, unbeknownst to you, turned into an episode of Hoarders. Because I'm such a giver, I've jotted down a brief list of helpful moving tips, should you ever find yourself in the midst of the Worst Move Ever like I have.

* Don't make the one guy who is willing to lift your heavy armoir mad. I toed the line with Geo by constantly dismissing his attempts at help and complaining non-stop about pretty much everything. I snapped to it after he carried around my couches, armoir, desk, and mattresses without so much as a "You don't deserve this, missy..."

* Work at a company that ships hundreds of thousands of things across the world and end up recycling more boxes than I've seen in my whole life. It's like boxes grow on trees there, and that's pretty nice. Considering money FOR boxes does NOT grow on trees.

* Drink a bottle of wine and haphazardly throw away everything not nailed down.

* Take advantage of the lax garbage rules in your neighborhood. Go ahead and put your crap under-appreciated treasures on the curb in the hopes that some shmuck comes by in the middle of the night and carts it away. Here are the things random people picked up from the curb and moved away for me while I slept: A broken recliner, a very grody area rug, an even grodier long, narrow rug that lived outside on our porch in a bundle for 2 years, 3 rusty bar stools, and an ironing board that might not even stand up anymore.

* Make sure someone you know is having a garage sale very, very soon. Pretty much 90% of the things I couldn't figure out how to just throw away were hauled off to my parents house for what is sure to be an awesome garage sale on Thursday. Seventy-ton TV for $1.00? DEAL. I can't even PAY the garbage men/women to take it away.

* Don't overthink it. I saw Geo and his dad "move" a mattress by simply tossing it off our balcony and on to our front yard. Easy peazy. When my mom and Prinna came to help me pack my hell hole bedroom last night, they just distracted me while they packed all my stuff for me. I have a tendency to micro-manage moving efforts, so by sending me on random quests to find a Sharpie or something, they successfully got my stuff in boxes without worrying about the exact order of how my tank tops were folded.

* Do NOT, I repeat, DO NOT try and move a 50 pound box of vases while wearing flip flops. Even if you don't drop it on your vulnerable toes, you will trip at least once and it will take an enormous feat of balance to protect the comically fragile box you're carrying.

* Finally, somehow manage to find Moving Fairies. I don't know how to tell you to find these guys, but I stumbled upon mine the day I was born. Today at work, I was constantly distracted with the amount of physical activity it would take to move all my freshly-boxed belongings downstairs. And then how was I going to get said belongings over to my new place? I have but a humble 4-door sedan. Enter Moving Fairies. I came home from work, positively beat down. Geo paraded me around the house showing me all the things he had done before letting me discover my bedroom. It. Was. Empty. All the boxes, the heavy bags, the trunk full of Halloween costumes. Gone. Turns out, my mom and Prinna had taken it upon themselves to come to my house while I was fighting back tears at work, and moved everything out. They vacuumed my room. They washed the baseboards. They cleared EVERYTHING out and into my mom's giant van, which I can deliver to my new house whenever I want. Then they went home before I even had the chance to skip lunch.

I walked into my room, screamed bloody-murder and started sobbing. I said "Geo! I can't....I can't...what did you? What did you? Oh. Mah. Gah!!!!!!!!" And he's all "It wasn't me!" So I cried again because I briefly thought I'd been robbed. When he told me about my Fairy God Movers, I dropped my knees and declared "I CAN WRITE A BLOG TONIGHT!"

So here we are. Blogging, reading, being awesome. I still have a few things I want to get done tonight, but my bedroom was my own Mount Everest. I can't thank my mom and Prinna enough for what they did for me. I don't think there are words to express how I felt when I saw that empty room. I wasn't even SAD that it was empty. I was so RELIEVED. I could have probably wet my pants at that moment. Rest assured I did not.

Anyhoozle, that's where I am tonight. Relief. I also sold my couches today for a cool $300 and I wasn't even home to panic over the possibility of inviting a haggler into my house. Geo took care of that while my mom and Prinna were upstairs performing miracles.

I guess that's probably my overall best piece of advice for any idiot dumb enough to move somewhere: Be the luckiest person in the world, with the bombest people in the world willing to do your dirty work so you don't go all Britney Spears and shave your head out of pure frustration.

I owe you one, guys. Technically, I probably owe you more like a bazillion, or whatever amounts to a Miracle.