Moving is not fun

As mentioned, this past weekend I moved. It was, in complete honesty, absolutely painful. Literally.

Since no one likes to move, I decided to only ask my parents for help, rather than bothering my friends. This proved to be unsuccessful because two days before I planned on leaving, my mom, dad AND brother all bailed. Awesome. So on Saturday I somehow managed to load nine boxes, six bags of clothes, and miscellaneous things in my tiny car. I drove around 30 MPH the entire way home.

Thankfully, my brother was home so he helped me get the boxes and such from my car into the house. Chaos ensued. Since my room still screamed "I'm a high schooler!" I decided to re-decorate and clear out my room of high school memorabilia. Around two hours of play scripts, intricately folded notes, photos and English essays later, the old was packed up and the new was getting set up. By nightfall, not much was completed so I slept in the computer room on the very uncomfortable futon.

The next day, my parents were actually around to help me move my furniture. Around 10am we made it to the house, only to find that it was the worst day in the history of Florida. Winds were gushing by, rain was pouring down. In other words, excellent moving weather. We managed to get my desk, desk chair, night table, bed, and bike into two cars. The only problem was, of course, the mattress. We put the mattress on top of my dad's SUV and started tying it down. Since it was incredibly windy, we put one of the metal poles from the bed (IKEA bed and all) on top of the mattress, hoping the weight would help.

Bad move.

One blow of wind later, and the incredibly heavy metal pole fell on my head. I still don't remember parts of yesterday and a small bump has appeared.

With the mattress tied down and a tarp on top of it, we started the drive back. Just as we left, the weather got worse. My dad and I had to literally hold the mattress down while he drove up the street. Hard wind and rain smashed against our bare hands. It was so bad that we decided to stop for lunch. Thankfully, after a lovely Greek pita, the rain stopped. The winds got worse, though.

We prayed for red lights, just so we could rest. Going against the wind, our arms were in so much pain trying to hold the front of the mattress down. By the time we got home, neither of us had feeling in our hands. They were red and very beaten down.

The rest of the day consisted of me moving furniture around my room, hoping that it would fit, putting everything in its proper place (I'm very particular about keeping my blue pens together, journals under the nighttable, etc), and clearing out the garage in order to make room for my old toy box. I've never moved so many heavy boxes. On the plus side, I did find my old tap shoes!

My room is mostly done now. I still need to decorate the walls (take down the old play posters and put up nice artwork) and put my books in the bookcases. That's a two day event, though, as I have over 200 books.

Since I'm leaving for London in less than a week, I also have to start packing. I'm not going to complain about that, though, because, well, it's London.

I ended last night by cuddling in my bed (with my new comforter that Megan and I almost had to beat up an old lady to get - it was the last one and she had her grubby hands on it!) and reading The Monsters of Templeton. In that book, Willie moves back home as well. Only she has a monster to go home to. All I have is a crabby brother and overzealous puppy.

Okay. The puppy makes it all worth while.