Well it’s finally here! Lisa’s getting married this Saturday at Spruce Mountain Ranch. And with a set up like this, I don’t know how anyone can possibly contain their excitement. Off to hang with some fantastic people and celebrate this exciting day. Blogging to return upon my return.
Mags and I finally made the move. We love the area we lived in before, so knew we wanted to stay in the Lakeview/Lincoln Park ‘hood. After searching all around town, we decided on the Commonwealth building–just one block east of where we currently were living.
Bright and early we made our way to the U-Haul, made the pact that Maggie would do the driving (never driven anything bigger than a Jetta) and began to load the truck. With the help of Gretchen, Brian and Patrick (all in different shifts), we made a size-able dent in the move. Truck loaded and we’re heading out the door…Maggie, Brian and me.
It is after locking the door, we realize we have the U-Haul keys, the new place keys and no old place keys. Panic sets in. During this time we attempt the landlord and in his true fashion, we cannot get a hold of him. Enter Emergency Locksmith Hotline. Enter new problem: Maggie awaiting for the locksmith. Which means I, Hanna E. Soltys, strap myself in to the U-Haul and drive maybe two blocks total. I have no recollection of manning the machine, just remember I literally could not see anything. And was extremely grateful we received a beat up truck so any type of damage would hopefully go unnoticed.
Brian and I do the whole unloading of the truck and Maggie finally gets into the old apartment. We load up the final load of the truck (that’s right, two loads and we were done. Medal us please: Gold for Brian, Silver for Maggie and I) and Maggie sweet talks U-Haul for an additional hour with the truck, seeing as we spent 40 minutes trying to figure out how to close the back door.
Alas, 3:04 rolls around and we are done. Everything is piled into the living room, like a scary, yet charming, episode of Hoarders. The thought of unpacking sounds extremely unappetizing. So Maggie and I do what we normally do in situations like this: eat pizza. After gathering mustering whatever strength we have left, we begin the dreaded unpacking.
An hour later, we’re burned out and decided to meet Maggie’s parents for a late dinner and drinks. It’s over wine that Maggie and I make our new pact:
NO MOVING UNTIL MARRIAGE
The next time we move we will a) be moving into homes with our husbands and b) sipping cocktails by the pool while professionals handle the matter. Glad to say I’ve moved myself in this fair city, but there’s no need for a repeat. That would just be showing off.