Accepting Ativan Donations...

Today was pretty bad. One of those days where you think about a possible worse-case scenario and it lives up to your expectations and then some. I'll spare most of the details, but recount just one example for good measure.

After a particularly frustrating outing, we got back just in time for me to call about the student loan consolidation I had been waiting to hear about for so long I've lost track. I had already called twice before, asking what was taking so long. (My original application was received on October 25.) At the time, they said they would re-do the request to my lenders for the pay-off amounts for my loans because it had already been two months. Then the evil woman on the other end of the phone asked me if I knew I would lose the forgiveness benefits of Loans X and Y if I consolidated. (X and Y are currently under cancellation, and get paid off little by little for every year I work a certain number of hours as an RN.) Bastards.

I had no intention of consolidating X and Y. But, the application said that under penalty of death by nuclear fallout I must report EVERY student loan I have even if I don't want it included in the consolidation. I remember typing in the account number for Loan X and thinking about how livid I would be when they screwed up and added it even though I checked the "No, do not f&cking include this in my consolidation" box.

Of course, because of the curse that I have always carried, which has been somehow exponentially increased after taking my wedding vows, they screwed up. It will be another 60 days before they "review" my case and "see if they can fix it". 

The silver lining to this day is that I had this wonderful memory of one of the first friends I made in college. I remember having a day like this one has been. I stormed out of the underground library in no mood to talk to anyone, and there he was. We lived in the same dorm, which had a church attached to it, and he said, "No matter how busy you are, sit in the church for ten minutes before you go up to your room".

I remember that sense of peace that I could find in the chapel of St. John's. A aesthetically pleasing place to sit and think in silence with other people who were also sitting (or kneeling) and thinking. Maybe it's time I found a nearby church that's pretty on the inside. Otherwise, I think I need an Ativan prescription. Either way.

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At the end of the horrible day, I was driving in our new town and saw a sign that looked like a squiggly line next to a large tree. A few feet ahead was an area where an actual large tree trunk was spilling onto the place where the road should have gone. Instead, the curb curved to make room for life. I heard the voice of Mr. Rogers asking if I had learned my lesson for the day.

Home is Where Your Crap Is

So I'm pretty sure we have never felt at home so quickly than this move to a town that no one, not even Mr. Garmin guy, can pronounce. As soon as we had a little bit of our junk here, I felt like we had lived here for months. 

The move was an adventure as are most things in our life.  We had it all planned.  Our Medford lease was up on the 26th.  We had picked out a new place in Tualatin on our trip to Seattle the 8th.  We were planning on moving up the weekend of the 16-17th.  I had calculated the cubic feet of crap that was deemed worthy enough to make it to our new place.  We had two friends that were going to help up pack up and pull a trailer with his Jeep.  According to Uhaul online, he could pull the 6x12 trailer which would mean 400 cubic feet of our crap would fit in there.  We had the trailer, his jeep, and our two cars to get 4 people, one baby, one dog, one rabbit and any crap we cared enough about to take with us.  The calculations were done, we knew what would make it and what wouldn't.  We could do it.  One trip.  

On our initial move to Oregon, we had planned on moving with almost nothing and just starting anew out here.  Then her newly acquired employer gave us a relocation bonus so we decided to get a truck and pull our old car.  We were still going to get a small truck to save money and limit the stuff that migrated with us but the smallest truck that could pull our car was pretty large.  It held 800 cubic feet of crap.  And since we did not have to thin out and prioritize what came with, it all did.  Actually I think more than our stuff did.  Since we had room, people gave us stuff (useful at least) and we PACKED all 800 cubic feet of it.  

Now we have since gone through all of it and kept only what we needed (we are trying to be minimalists) and I had calculated it would fit into our 400 cubic foot trailer and 3 cars.  Our wonderful friends came down from Portland to help on the 17th to pick up the trailer and start loading.  We had been sick (well mostly Latitude and Ava) the prior week so I had not had time to pack up everything to have it ready to go.  When they arrived, friend A and I went with his jeep to get the 400 cubic foot trailer from the local Uhaul center.  Upon explaining what we wanted to rent, the nice Uhaul employees says "ummm, you cant pull a trailer that large with that jeep. "  "Here comes my family curse better know as Murphy's Law" I thought to myself.  I tried to explain to the guy that when I went to reserve the trailer online at the mail Uhaul website it said that jeep could pull that trailer.  He said "yea, the website isn't that accurate, we go by our computers here (Uhaul network system).  Actually I have noticed that the website is wrong a lot."  

So I could not get the trailer we planned for.  I got the next size trailer down which was a 5x10.  The jeep could pull it and if we had to leave more stuff behind, so be it.  We went out back to hook up the trailer and found out that the wiring harness on the Jeep didn't work.  Luckily the trailer hooking up guy was super nice and came outside with a new wiring harness they we could buy and then install.  It was a relatively simple system, it just piggybacked off the tail lights and only took up an hour or so to hook up.  We got the smaller trailer and went home to reevaluate the plan.  

Once home we realized the trailer we were able to pull was only: 200 cubic feet.  I bet most of our readers can do the math...  

Obnoxiously, we had to drive five hours south to get a second load a few days after the initial move. The only redeeming quality of that trip was leaving the baby at home. We were actually able to work as a team and get things done. I was thinking that walking in to our old apartment would make me nostalgic for the day we brought our tiny daughter home, or the day we first saw the "Entering Medford" sign after our five day drive. Instead, I realized that the only thing that gave that place an ounce of comfort was having our stuff there. It felt like we just had an extended stay at a pretty crappy hotel. I could set up a tent in someone's backyard and feel more welcomed.

Perhaps things are looking up.