I finally feel recovered from the most strenuous workout I've had in a long time.
I've had 10 workouts similar to this one since 2000.
That's how many times my oldest daughter, Lauren, has moved.
Ten times since 2000, the year she graduated from high school.
This time, at least, the move was in the same city.
But everything I took out of the old place had to be carried 21 steps... up... to the new place.
Box after box after box. Her day bed and trundle bed (which I have assembled, taken apart and reassembled so many times, I could do it competitively).
Of course, I love my children, and it's not that I mind helping them; I do it quite willingly.
It's just that with each move, there is more stuff... heavier stuff... to carry, and it takes me longer to recover.
Did I mention I spent 4 out of 7 days last week painting the apartment and helping move her stuff?
That's on top of the 2 days I spent earlier putting down painter's tape and starting the painting.
And outside her old place, you should've seen the stufff she decided to part with. The sanitation department crew must've fainted. The pile rivaled the "trash mountain" that has become part of the landscape along Interstate 85 at Highway 29 in Spartanburg County.
On moving day, I put in 4 hours, then I had to break away and prepare to go to the TV station.
My wife and daughter put more than 12 hours into moving day. They were exhausted.
I'll need to return to Lauren's new place soon to finish assembling some things. Hopefully it only means going up the 21 steps one time and coming down them one time.
But like Yogi Berra always said, "It ain't over 'til it's over!"
And for me, it ain't over yet.
Our other daughter, Kayla, graduates from college in May. Her apartment lease runs out in May too. It'll be time to move her back home until her job search is over.
Who ya gonna call?
Not Ghostbusters, not this time.
You call "One Dad and a Truck!"
Email
Facebook
Google
Twitter
Favorites
More
Advertisement