Moving Stories #3

The movers who worked for us on moving day did a great job. They saved me about a thousand dollars because they moved us in one day, eliminating the need to return the next day to finish. They worked fast, they worked hard, and they were strong. We had four guys with two trucks and about fifteen teeth altogether between the four of them. The guy in charge liked to tell me “good girl” whenever I did something of which he approved (like labeling the rooms in the new house with big post-its and matching the labels on the boxes to the rooms). He must have dogs or something. He’s lucky I didn’t deck him. At least he didn’t tell me to roll over or beg. The first time Ron heard the guy say “good girl” he went into duck and cover mode. But I didn’t say anything. It’s a good idea to stay in the good graces of your movers. They were careful with everything, wrapped all the furniture in pads, but they did not seem capable of reading the word “fragile,” and sometimes their logic defied reason. We found Ron’s meds, labeled for the kitchen, in the garage, finally, at about midnight on our first night in the house. Two boxes of CDs labeled for Ron’s studio turned up in the wine cellar and I’m still trying to figure out what the washing machine was doing in the library for the first few hours.