You guys are pretty tired of me talking about moving, yeah? Well fret not, for it’s actually happening THIS VERY WEEK! Soon it will all be over, and I’ll get right back to writing, I don’t know, mopey observations about relationships or whatever the hell my schtick is anymore.
It’s just hard NOT to talk about this move. It feels like life-changing times. Similar to having a baby, if the baby was furniture. And if the furniture didn’t have to come out of my uterus. I’d also like to point out that my furniture doesn’t poop.
You know what? Forget I said anything.
It’s all happening, and I couldn’t be more pleased, and I couldn’t be more terrified.
Today we got the truck and are loading it with all our things. Tomorrow will be cleaning and last-minute details. And then on Friday we drive off forever, into the sunset. Sunrise. Well, it will probably be mid-morning, so the non-dramatic answer is neither of those times of day.
A couple of our friends volunteered to drive with us, which is helpful because otherwise I would have had to drive our two cars side by side, straddling the divider line and steering with seven-foot arms. Either that or we would have had to tow one car behind the truck, which is okay I guess if it’s summer and the roads are dry and glimmering with sunshine and hundred-dollar bills. But it’s March, and there’s a good chance the roads will be covered over with “wintry mix” and despair. You try towing a car behind a truck under these conditions before the two decide to part ways and start seeing other people.
There is a part of me that is a little upset that I’m not the one driving the truck, because I am usually very interested in any opportunity to prove gender stereotypes wrong. But in this case, I am simply relieved. I kind of hate driving, anymore, so my anxiety level is already ratcheted up whenever I get behind the wheel of my own car. Getting behind the wheel of a different, larger vehicle? Holy shit, son. My father once had me drive his pickup and I very nearly had to pull over and lie down to recover. “WHY IS THIS SO BIG?” I kept half-yelling at him in the passenger seat as I flapped my hands around. I mean, I could have fit two of my cars side-by-side inside the cab. I am nervous inside of any vehicle that is so wide that I can’t reach the opposite side to roll down the window, which I guess is why they invented power windows. But that is just unnecessary and excessive! And here we’re talking about going even bigger; we’re talking about driving a 16-foot truck all the way to Colorado. Forget about gender stereotypes, I will gladly let the beau have them. Look for me on Friday inside my cereal box on wheels, flooring it past my husband in the rented behemoth with a sassy horn honk and a “SMELL U LATER” shouted out the window.
It’s weird, because I actually imagined us leaving Santa Barbara together, the beau and I. I imagined us rolling out of town in a giant truck together, perhaps under a double rainbow as residents lined the streets to shower us in glitter and mini bottles of booze. Our cars would have just floated behind, I guess? Or better yet, simply disappeared and reappeared in Denver, waiting patiently in the parking lot of our new apartment. I’ve found it’s best not to ask too many questions when it comes to dreams. But then our friends offered to help by driving the beau’s car, and I had to let the dream go in favor of the stark reality of… reality. It’s okay, though. I’ve since come around to the facts and even grown excited about them. Friends! Friends to help us drive! Friends to help us unload! We might never let them go back home. They can stay in the spare bedroom in Colorado and we can act out our own situational comedy indefinitely. No need for cable when you can have close quarters instead.
It will take two days to get to Colorado. Two days! I started a playlist for the drive, but it only has 3.8 hours on it so far, and the drive is going to take ohhhh, five times that long. Needless to say, finishing the playlist is my highest priority, higher than packing or bathing. The beau strangely doesn’t seem to agree with my ordering. What is up, marital discord!
No seriously though, I should probably go before the beau inadvertently sets something on fire with the look in his eyes. I will see you on the other side provided we don’t die!