Moving on the Sun

Of course it had to happen. The hottest day on record, or something like that, and it happens to be the day I am moving from my townhome in the suburbs of Chicago to an apartment near the neighborhood where I grew up in the city. Now, I had hired movers since my pool of friends willing to come and help me move has thinned in the past few years, plus there’s the fact that the last time I drove a moving truck I plowed into a parked car.

You see, I am not the world’s best driver. I was supposed to be backing the truck up and turning it into a driveway. I am not very good at the backing up and turning around a corner thing. Never have been. I failed my first attempt at getting my driver’s license because I could not pull over to the curb and then back up and turn around a corner without driving over the curb. Yes, I went to the one driver’s license place that made you do that. Thanks Mom.

Anyway, someone turned down the street I was on and it was obvious it was going to take me roughly four days to accomplish this maneuver. I panicked and got angry. I tend to do that when I am frustrated. I decided I would drive around the block and unclog the traffic jam I was creating. What I forgot, however, was that the cab of the truck was of a certain width and that the back part of the truck was wider than the cab. I am not used to driving a truck, normally once the part you are in clears the parked car you can swing over and you don’t have to worry about it clipping the car. So, I made it past the parked car in the cab and swung right.

CRUNCH!!!

I ripped the mirror off of one side of the parked car. I dented the door. I nearly tore the front bumper off. I had to leave a note and then have that humiliating conversation later in the day where I exchanged insurance information. It was ever-so much fun.

Still, those movers charge by the hour. My thinking was that the more I could transport myself that was lighter in nature then they would just have to move the heavy stuff and it would be faster. I also had to install a window-unit air conditioner in the new place. I did that on Friday with my dad. I also brought over some smaller boxes.

I then used Saturday morning to pack more things into my car. My car was in a garage so it wasn’t a big deal. When I took a step outside, however, I nearly wilted. Man, was it hot. It was like trying to move on the surface of the sun. Small children were bursting into flames like ants under a magnifying glass.

The movers arrived and they did their remarkable job. I swear the greatest burglars would be movers. They can move huge things so fast. It was less than an hour and they had my entire two-bedroom, three-level townhome packed and in the truck. I then made a last pass through the place and said good-by and good-riddance for the last time and high-tailed it out of there. Into the blazing sun with my hot, black car.

I arrived at my new place ahead of my parents and the movers. I unpacked a few things. My shirt was drenched after only a few minutes. I was wearing a baseball cap. It was white. By the time I was done it had turned a lovely yellow color. I have what I think is a permanent red line across my forehead from the headband in the hat.

Once again the movers piled furniture and boxes in record time. I was left to a place in chaos and began to work. Now, the air conditioner was running. The ceiling fans were circulating. The problem is it was just so hot and so humid if I were living in a giant freezer I still would have sweat through my clothes. I was wearing jeans and at some point they were so soaked with sweat and chafing that I just made sure all of the blinds were drawn and stripped down to my underwear to unpack.

I am rather obsessive about unpacking. I cannot stand living out of boxes. A home does not feel like a home until I have everything out of the box and in its place. I cannot stand piles of boxes anywhere. Every box reminds me of more work I need to do. So, I either need to have every box unpacked or put away somewhere where I cannot see them. I just tackled it one box at a time until it was all done. I then had a huge pile of broken down and flattened boxes by my door. I took all of those out to the garbage and then collapsed on my couch. I did remember to get dressed before taking the boxes out, however.

So, I am now in my one bedroom apartment back near where I grew up. The neighborhood is nice. Huge trees line the street. I am a few blocks from a Metra commuter train station so I can easily get downtown or to White Sox games. There is even a rod and reel store right across the street should I ever take up fishing as a hobby. There is a school and a park less than 100 yards from the door of the place. I have met a few neighbors and they are all very nice and everyone in this building seems to get along.

Yes, it is smaller than my townhome, but really, not by much. My kitchen is huge. Too bad I don’t spend a lot of time in my kitchen because you could fit a family of four in there quite comfortably. There is even some exposed brick at one point and I have always liked that. Where my desk is gives me a nice view of the TV so I can watch TV and work at the same time.

Tomorrow the cable guy comes to hook up the digital cable. I have some basic form now that gives me all the local channels plus MSNBC which is enough to drive anyone mad. However, it was nice to plug in the one cable into the modem of my computer and find out that whoever lived here before also had cable internet. I was able to get right back online, which was nice.

All-in-all, I am looking forward to living here. I love the neighborhood and the drive to work is going to be cut down to about 15 minutes. That is down from an hour so maybe I will be in a better mood once I get to work.

Don’t worry, nothing will stop me from be cynical, however.