When we left our intrepid homeowners, they were sleeping in the nude in an overpriced hotel room. Why nude, you ask? Because all of their pajamas were loaded into a U-Haul that at that very moment was sitting in the driveway of their new house. (See a full recap of the horror that was Moving Day, Part 1.)
But dawn arrived (as it always does) and another day began.
A warmer day. A better day.
Bill was once again up at the crack of dawn, dressed in the clothes he wore the day before, and at the new house by 7am when the movers arrived to unload the U-Haul. I, on the other hand, slept another couple of hours until it was time to take our dear friend Lauren to the train station so that she could skedaddle back to her home, husband, and cat.
It's amazing what a full night of sleep will do for a person's disposition.
Upon returning to our new house in the full sunlight and springtime weather, I marveled again at our luck in getting to live in this grand old house.
I also marveled at how it took eight hours to pack up the U-Haul, but only three hours to unload it. There is a Ted Talk waiting to happen -- some kind of mystical engineering at work.
The U-Haul was emptied and returned by noon, and Bill and I spent the next six hours unpacking like mad.
Where to start?
My main focus was the kitchen -- it had the most boxes and was going to be one of the most challenging. Besides, there is something about having a working kitchen that makes the chaos bearable.
Bill was focused on the bedroom, and on locating our most basic toiletry items. Our goal was to be able to apply deodorant before the day was over.
Don't forget to rest and re-hydrate. Moving is a marathon, not a sprint.
Unpacking is a lot of work, especially if you've only gotten six hours of sleep combined over the last two nights. So after locating the towels and soap and taking a quick shower, Bill grabbed a quick nap.
I continued to unpack until my general mustiness overcame even my own high tolerance for grunge. Then I took what might possibly be the most satisfying shower of my life, and we went out for dinner. Bill had a glass of wine and I enjoyed an after-dinner coffee, and for an hour we pretended like there wasn't a house full of unpacked boxes waiting for us.
Back to reality.
When we finally dragged ourselves back home, we managed to put in another three hours of unpacking before calling it a night. And as we crawled into bed in our new room, with clean sheets and two happy cats (who have made themselves quite at home), we decided to never refer to Moving Day, Part 1 again.