My wife and I got the process started yesterday. Between here and what will be our new home is a self-storage facility which just happened to have a 10'x30' unit available at a very reasonable monthly rate. We found the space clean, dry and fairly new, offering access from both ends. It was a stroke of good fortune that surprised both of us.Two industrial-strength padlocks later, we were in business. It'll work.
On a hunch, I asked the manager if she had any extra shipping pallets hanging around the property. She directed us to raid an open unit a few doors down from ours, where we found eight worth using -- another unexpected find, this one allowing us to get our stuff up off of the unit's concrete floor. Absolutely perfect -- and absolutely free.
Next we headed to a nearby mass-merchandiser for plastic totes, tape and other packing supplies. We spent more money there than we would've liked but judged the outlay a necessary evil.
This morning it took us a while to get rolling. By day's end, however, we'd packed seven good-sized boxes with books, glassware and assorted household items. We know that we've barely scratched the surface -- and we also know that we'll get the job done. We have to.
Just renting the storage unit and knowing that we'll be able to haul one or two SUV-loads over there every day lifts some weight from our shoulders. We're no longer stuck -- now we're actually moving.
While we're still here in this warm house we'll enjoy its pleasures, the joy that surrounds us on this special patch of land. Earlier today, for instance, my wife summoned me to an upstairs window to watch a storm front roll toward us. Out of an angry western sky, sheets of rain came closer and closer until, mixed with wet snow and sleet, the drops pelted against the glass.
A bit later, I called Mrs. KintlaLake's attention to a hawk swooping between the red pines and the sycamore outside the office window, battling rain and gusting wind while scanning the ground for its prey.
A dozen bright-yellow daffodils, cut Friday afternoon from a patch of volunteers, grace our dining-room table. Dozens more remain for us to enjoy during lazy strolls into the back yard.
Damn, we're going to miss this place. It's still home, at least for a little while longer, but the move is finally underway.
