My Name is Kris and I Blah-g

Today I went to empty out the rest of my house. I grossly underestimated how much stuff I had left over there. It’s like once it left my home, it expanded!! I thought that I’d simply pack what I was keeping towards the front of the truck and what I was donating in the back. Not so fast…first, we had to get the heavy stuff into the truck. The heavy stuff was the washer/dryer and the treadmill. If figured, well, it’s not a refrigerator, how hard can it be? Yeah. I’m a dummy. We strapped the washing machine onto the dolly with a couple of bungee cords. Debbie took to hoisting it up the stairs and I took to pushing it up the stairs. Matt wondered what he was supposed to do and I told him that he should remain behind me in case I fell. Good thing. We got about a quarter of the way up and the Debbie lost her grip on the dolly as it came flying out from beneath the washing machine. The washing machine quickly pushed me down about 3 stairs. It hit the wall and I rolled over on to my right ankle. Yeah, ouch. I felt Matt’s hand firmly against my back as he stopped my plunge down the stairs. I looked up to see the machine start to tilt towards my face and at the last second turned my head to keep it from coming down on my nose. It was a close one. I lucked out. We, however realized that we were in over our heads. This thing wasn’t going up the stairs with us carrying it. PANIC. Calls to my brothers were fruitless. One wasn’t home and the other is currently battling a scorching case of flu which has taken over his household. My nephew Deven was gone for the weekend and that left us seriously lacking the muscle to get these things up the stairs. Well, what can I say?? Thank goodness for old friends and the church. My old neighbor emerged from her home. She must have heard the commotion or she felt the panic gushing from my ears. I relayed our problem and she offered to get the phone number of the Relief Society president for me. It couldn’t hurt. I was *this* close to calling U-Haul’s moving people that they so conveniently advertised all over the inside of their trucks. It was bad enough that this $19.95 local rental was going to in reality cost me $100. I was desperate enough to pay some strangers to come haul my crap.I called up Sister Winward and asked if she remembered me. Of course she did. It’s her job to remember. Anyway, I told her my problem and asked if she could call around and find me a couple strong guys to help. Within about 15 minutes we had a couple men from the ward walking up my driveway and in another 20 they had the washer/dryer, treadmill and half of my garage loaded, including my old couch. LIFE SAVERS!! At this point, thought it was obvious that it was going to take more than one trip to the D.I. to get this stuff donated. So Deb and Matt begged off to get lunch and I trudged down to the D.I. to off load my junk. They took all of it but when they got to the couch, it had very nearly made it to the ground when some guy came over and said, “No can do, Missy. We can’t sell this couch. It’s stained.” Geez. Beggars can’t be choosers! You’re getting it for FREE..sell it for $5 and get off my back! Yeah, I didn’t say that. Again, Panic ensued. I decided that I was going to forget the second trip to the D.I. I was running out of time and with this couch taking up valuable real estate in the truck, there was no way I was going to get my house emptied. I called Matt and said, “We’re going to the dump!”The storm clouds were moving in quickly. Daytime was now looking like night and we could hear the rumbling of thunder in the distance. By the time we got the truck loaded with things for the dump, the rain was coming down. The lightning was surrounding us and we knew that this may be the big adventure of the day. We got to the dump just in time for the rain to start falling like crazy. What took about 45 minutes to load, took about 5 to unload. And just like that, our possessions were in a soggy heap behind the U-haul. The last thing out was that ol’ couch. Mike and I bought that couch about the time we were married 12 years ago. It was still a good couch. A bit warn, yes. But with a good cleaning and maybe a slip cover, it would have worked well for some other family in need. Alone, I grabbed hold of the bottom of the couch and lifted it on its end and sent it sailing out into the rain. That couch seemed to tumble out in slow motion. The cushions came loose and landed in the pile of old kitchen appliances, broken candles and our first dining table that we bought at Walmart 11 years ago for $99. It, too would have worked well for someone in need. And now it was broken, the glass shattered during our frenzied attempts to get the truck cleared before we were soaked to the bone. The irony of seeing all of it come to this was almost too much to take. It was too late now to make the calls to family members to see if they could use any of this stuff. It was just too late. We had only so much time with the truck and the rest of it was going to be spent taking the rest of my stuff to my new home.The rain was really coming down now. The sight of the road was marred by the intense lightning that was striking all around us and the water that was falling faster than the windshield wipers could brush it away. Debbie and I worked quickly to load the truck back up. And within an hour had the truck back home and unloaded. There was little time to spare as we pulled into the rental return lot at 5 minutes to the hour before they closed. And like that, we were done. What’s left of my history is now in boxes and plastic totes piled high in my sister’s garage. It will remain there probably until I move again or I get the nerve to go through it and realize it was foolish of me to move it as many times as I did. But all that’s left are the momentos from high school, my courtship with Mike, our wedding…. I just can’t bear to part with any of it.My house is empty now save for a couple random knick knacks which I will retrieve in a couple days. A good sweep with the vacuum and the place will be good enough to hand over to the new owners. And that too will be another momentous occasion. I had always thought that the day I left this house would be the day that Mike and I would be moving on to warmer pastures – like Newport Beach.The sun finally emerged by late afternoon. I also got to take a gander at my right ankle. Resting made me realize that it was hurting. And for good reason, it was swollen to about twice its natural size. A souvenir. How wonderful. I know that I should be relieved. And I guess I am. It is good to have that part over. And to an odd degree, I feel like maybe I am just not sad enough about any of this. I am reflective and that does provide for some melancholy. But I just can’t be sad. Maybe I am just ready to move forward. Maybe I’m just tired. Maybe… I am just ready to stop grieving and just say, “God be with you ’til we meet again.”