Friday, July 5, 2013

The Moving Saga, Part II: The Dead Car

(Read Part I.)

After church, we decided on a lunching place and went to our respective cars. Except hubby's car wouldn't start. He has a 10-year-old Mazda 6 Sport that he adores, but lately it's been having issues starting and needing a jump. He discovered it was a result of the build-up on the battery, cleaned it, and for 2 weeks it had been running fine.

But it turned out it wasn't just the build-up; it must be that the battery itself was on the way out. We got a jump from his parents and went to lunch with them and a few friends. After lunch, of course, it needed a jump again. We made it back to the church where his parents had left their truck+trailer (parking lots in Davis are too small to accommodate, so we had driven them to the restaurant) and dropped them off. On the way home, we had to stop again at the restaurant because I remembered I hadn't used the bathroom and we didn't have one at home still. Sigh.

We finally made it home. He put it on his to-do list to get a new battery.

Luckily we each have our own cars, so while we packed, he drove mine and got himself a new battery. Upon installing it, he discovered another problem (which I don't understand, and so shan't try to explain) but decided it wouldn't be bad enough to keep us from making it to SoCal. He also lost a wrench somewhere in his car engine and couldn't find it....oh well?

Meanwhile, his parents, myself, and an assortment of close friends all helped to pack up the place. I still needed to do laundry, so I went to our friend's place to do so. In the mean time the guys started packing up the trailer with the heavy furniture, including my large dresser that my father and I made. Luckily they were smart enough to leave it to one of the gals to pack up my clothes! When I returned, I found that the only clothes I had for the next week were the ones on my body and the ones I had just washed. I was suddenly glad that we had had so much laundry...

(When we arrived in SoCal and unpacked all our boxes into the barn until we move again to a permanent residence, I was able to locate both boxes of my clothes. I'm pretty sure I know where my jackets and sweaters ended up, too, if I need them. But we don't know where the box of my shoes went. Luckily, I'm much less afraid of shopping than I used to be....)

Through the crazy, hectic time, we actually had fun. A friend put on happy worship music. The guys did the heavy lifting and--something it seems all guys love to do--packing the trailer just perfectly so as to fit as much stuff as possible. We women packed away all the dishes, housewares, and everything else and I felt--very unlike OCD-me--totally unstressed.  I guess that means I trust my friends.

Sunday and Monday were all full of packing. Tuesday morning we were going to leave very early so as to make the 400-mile journey in reasonable time. All was going according to plan...

Read Part III.