Moving Stage II

Oh don't you just love moving? Don't you love discovering all those delicate muscles in your back that you didn't know you had till you strain one? Or those leg muscles so vital to lifting? Or counting every stair that you've climbed up and down for years as you make your way treacherously down them while carrying 80 pounds of books in your arms (your babies)?

Sigh. Our lease officially begins today, and we took a couple carloads of stuff over there. My apartment still looks full even after hauling a bunch of my vital accumulation of treasures over there. But I'm telling you, I see the light at the end of the tunnel. And I've discovered that my faithful Jeep is great at hauling and had more square footage of cargo than I thought it had. He's strong, powerful and faithful, my Jeep.

But the truth is, I'm not sure how I'm going to get 2 futons, 2 bookshelves, and a trio of cd shelves down the stairs, into some waiting vehicle and up another flight of stairs. It's not the hardest thing I've ever done. I'm trying to think of it as an adventure, like eating scallops at a buffet.

I've already refused many kind and generous offers for help. It's pride. It's my Japanese side. It's complete foolhardy and goes against every concept of common sense out there. A friend of mine offered hours of help and a pickup truck, but I said no. Truth is, it's not that I don't want the help, it's just that I don't know how I could possibly pay it back. But the part that doesn't make sense is, is that I've helped countless people move. I used to drive a minivan. And it was a completely hollowed out minivan (my dad, who bought it used, was convinced it was used in drug trafficking, or was it the Jeep?), so it was basically a two-seater with a bunch of empty space in the back. I wouldn't give a second thought to helping someone move. But accept the help? No way. No. Moving is a hellish, unredemptive experience. You put yourself through hard labor with no benefit except the gratefulness of the movee. I would not put anyone I loved and held dear through that. I don't care if they even wanted to do it. No. Japanese. Pride. For shame, you know?

So tomorrow is the big moving day. That's when I really break out in sweat and haul boxes. That's when I create a jigsaw puzzle out of a futon bed and the bed of the Jeep. Oh, give me the strength.