by Jennifer Farlin | Aug 19, 2014 | Art, How To, Interior Decorating
Tweaked.
This poster was ripped. I didn’t like all the black. It needed custom framing because of its nonstandard size. And so it has sat in a poster tube for several years.
This was a framed article that was no longer relevant. So it has sat in a box. But–I loved the green custom mat, plus it had glass and a decent frame.
So I combined the art from the poster and the nice mat and frame of the article and made new art–for free. Thus, eliminating the need for custom framing, a poster tube, and a framed article taking up storage space.
Tweaked.
by Jennifer Farlin | Jul 21, 2014 | Life Reflections
My Nephew Singing the Blues.
Move-In Blues.
I’ve got the move-in blues.
My kitchen trash don’t fit.
My table is too big.
I can’t find my shoes. I’ve got the move-in blues.
I got lost getting gas. Our lawn table is cracked.
There are too many books.
I hate fast food.
I can’t find my shoes.
I’ve got the move-in blues.
Our hose reel is missing, so are 6 pictures, a chair, and 2 boxes.
There’s footprints on my table and trying to find anything is hazy.
I unpacked a box that said dishes and in it were toys.
I can’t find my shoes.
I’ve got the move-in blues.
I threw out my back. This whole thing is whacked.
Third house in one year.
Where should I put this, why is this sticky, what are barbells doing with the booze?
I can’t find my shoes.
I’ve got the move-in blues.
by Jennifer Farlin | Jun 17, 2014 | Life Reflections
We’ve had a lot of it. Movement. Movers came yesterday. Small moving truck today to take our “DO NOT DESTROY” stuff (if you are following we said adios to the 5×8 trailer and upgraded to a small truck). A lot of moving going on in the house as we to and fro and clean. We moved our tooshes as we traversed through Disney last week and 53 other things prior. Moving officially to DC on Friday to a friend’s house. Then eventually we’ll move into our “new” house. And someday our household goods will arrive in 4 to 6 weeks and we can really move in.
The checklist is pretty well checked off. And, well, that moves me.
But this is really about what my 6 year old said. You see tonight we watched Disney’s Hercules–and while my son took a shower I heard him singing some rendition of this from the movie:
I have often dreamed
Of a far-off place
Where a great warm welcome
Will be waiting for me.
I am on my way
I can go the distance
I don’t care how far
Somehow I’ll be strong
I know ev’ry mile
Will be worth my while…
(His version had a lot of different words than this:)
So I say to him that it’s a great song and he says– “That’s what we do when we move Mom. We are tough stuff and we go all over and do new things.”
Oh my gosh I parented right.
See you in DC.
~Jen
by Jennifer Farlin | May 12, 2014 | Life Reflections
Dear Diary,
Friday I found out our packers are coming while we are on our nonrefundable vacation 961 miles away.
Awesome.
I was then told that there are no other move dates until July. Which of course is too late because another family is moving into our house.
Then I found out that our shipment of household goods will arrive before our “new” house will be ready (we are off by a mere week) so it must go into short term storage. (Read Downsizing Part 3).
And then I found out because we are relocating during the most heavily moved month—that we should expect a 4 to 6 week wait time to receive our shipment from short term storage.
Yes!
Since this is a diary entry pretend that next is a dramatic entry about life and love. I’m too tired to concoct one.
by Jennifer Farlin | May 1, 2014 | Life Reflections, Popular
This is the third part of the series Downsizing or why my impending displacement feels like a game of whack a mole.
Moving is like a game. The object is to get your stuff into your next house before your spouse starts their new job (so that you are not unpacking alone), before the kids start school in the fall, and before your household goods get lost, stolen, blown up, rained on, driven over, crushed, broken, cracked and/or mutilated.
The rules of the game require packers to come into your house and in a cyclone of frenzied activity pack everything in sight including your car keys, shoes, and garbage. Need a toilet brush? Well it’s probably packed with your children’s toothbrushes (which you forgot to extract beforehand), inside the waste paper basket, underneath all of your shoes, in a box labelled “guest bedroom.”
This will take 3 days.
Then the movers show up.
At this point you are so exhausted and drained that you are mere putty in their hands. The movers proceed to code all of your furniture.
Each piece of furniture is given a complex series of codes depicting exaggerated wear and tear. Your brand new couch is coded as s3 s34 s56 s7 s9 which according to their source code is deciphered as soiled on the left, soiled on the right, soiled underneath, soiled up high, soiled down low, soiled here and soiled there. If your couch is damaged in transit you have now zero chance of successfully claiming it.
For the next 12 hours all of your belongings are now carried one at a time out of your house and into the truck.
After which the driver will then and ONLY then tell you when you can expect your shipment. He holds all the cards. When we moved here our driver told us to expect a call in a few days for a date in the future. Mysterious. I love it.
If your shipment arrives to your new house before you do (read the driver called you once and no one answered) your household goods are put into storage. This is the black hole. The bermuda triangle of moving. The dark abyss of doom. Sixty-four people at this point will handle your shipment. At different times. On different days.
So say you navigate all of the above successfully. You, the spouse who is still on leave, the kids, the movers, and your stuff are now outside your new house. But wait. The people moving out are military too. They need a full moon, a month ending in “r”, and a red headed twin named Harriet who can ride a unicycle, in order to get their paperwork processessed to set up their military move—so they are still in the house. The one that you are standing outside of, with your stuff, and your kids, with the movers.
NOW your stuff goes into storage. Your spouse starts his new job. And you sit in friend’s house with your two kids and her two kids and a dog and a cat and all of your things you couldn’t let the movers touch (but without shoes and car keys because the packers packed those) and wait.
The term “Whac-a-mole” (or “Whack-a-mole”) is used colloquially to denote a repetitious and futile task: each time an adversary is “whacked” it only pops up again somewhere else. This, my friend, is moving.
