Trophy Wife

I'm still shocked how much crap we have managed to stock pile and keep neatly out of sight. We embarked on the first half of the big move yesterday and completed a successful run with the movers, who, by the way, were worth every penny so far. (Check out my "What does a less stressful move cost?" post to relive my moving quote shock.)

Because we refused to buy new boxes and because the black garbage bags ran out, we ended up putting a lot of random stuff in our cars - from toilet brushes to spatulas (don't worry, I didn't put them in the same bag). We decided that we needed one car less stuffed than the other so we could drive it around to the closings and not be judged for looking like we're living in our SUV.

It turned out that my hubs' car would be the chosen one. So we were very deliberate with what we loaded into it and piled in essentials we would need for the next two days in addition to our remaining valuables. I wasn't keeping a close eye on his car as he packed it up and it wasn't until I went around the back did I see what he deemed as "valuable." There they stood... trophies and bobble heads all in their plastic, non-valuable form.

With stress running high from the move, we then proceeded to have a "healthy" discussion over whether what he chose to pack in his car was actually worth the precious cargo room. That is when I realized that I'm officially a "trophy wife;" my husband, like many men, is addicted to recognition and cheap trinkets that symbolize it.

No longer in denial, I decided to accept the trophies, and to diffuse an argument that was brewing during an already hectic day, I took this picture to document our milestone move:

And no, those aren't real glasses. Those are glasses he wore as Clark Kent for Halloween while in college, and yes, THOSE were also classified as valuable and earned a spot in the "valuables-only" car.

Oy.

Dollars & (Common) Sense

This past weekend we officially started moving some of our things to my parents house for safe keeping and I learned two very valuable lessons that I would like to pass on to other novice movers. First, try to purge everything you can because you never know what unexpected value you may find as a result of letting things go. And second, use some common sense and wear sturdy footwear when doing some heavy lifting.

The weather in Chicago has been incredible and the 80 degree heat led me to blow off the dust on my flip flops and let my toes get some much needed vitamin D. I was on my way out the door taking the first official box to my car and then it hit me... actually slammed down on me. The box I was carrying held some precious cargo, aka wine, and part of the box bottomed out and a heavier-than-average wine bottle came torpedoing towards my innocent, nearly naked foot. (Actually, the bottle was probably average weight, but when it comes crashing down on your tootsie, you tend to think it must be a lead-brewed Merlot.)

My first reaction was, "is the wine okay?" immediately followed by falling to the ground in tears calling for the hubs, who couldn't read my "I think I just crushed my foot" cry from my "honey, can you open the front door when you have a chance, I think I'm locked out. No rush." Needless to say he casually sauntered down to the front yard to find me sprawled on the front walk with an errant bottle of wine slowly rolling down the driveway. It was quite the suburban crime scene.

Okay, lesson learned. I will wear covered shoes from now on during the move. I will also drink all the remaining wine to ensure that no one else can be assaulted.

So after getting over the first casualty of the big move, we moved on (and I of course put on different shoes) and started to debate over moving my husband's larger than life Coke bottle coin bank. He had been stashing change in this thing for who knows how long and I just couldn't justify moving it - it was heavy, it had been collecting dust in our spare room closet for three years and to be quite honest, after enduring a beat down by a wine bottle moments earlier, I really didn't want to go near any kind of bottle, let alone a three feet tall one filled with very heavy change. It had to go.

Surprisingly, the hubs agreed that it would be best to get rid of it and we soon found ourselves at our local Chase (me limping in and Adam trying to maintain his masculinity while walking by three-piece suited bankers with a massive coke bottle cradled in his arms) cashing in what we thought would hopefully net us 100 bucks. And at this point, as long as the bottle did fall the hit me, I considered it a win no matter what.

Much to our surprise, the bottle totaled a little more than $217. Not too shabby, eh? The once 20 pound, awkwardly sized bottle, now fit neatly into our checking account and would allow us to splurge on some weekend takeout.

The day started off on the wrong foot... literally and figuratively... and even though I wasn't expecting to get jumped by a wine bottle or pleasantly surprised by a Coke coin bank, they both taught me yet more valuable moving lessons.

Thinking Outside the Box

Packing continues and I've realized that men and women have a very different take on how to approach such a large task.

A few weeks ago, as we took inventory of our spare boxes, newspaper and packing tape (aka - all the packing essentials) the hubs exclaimed, "We can't forget to buy extra garbage bags!" I immediately assumed he was finally planning to throw out all his high school memorabilia, including the cardboard crown he proudly wore as Homecoming King his senior year yet talks about it like he was just parading down main street yesterday, but I was horrified to learn that he was planning on moving his belongings (ones he wants to KEEP) in garbage bags.

Whoa, whoa, whoa.... we are not moving into a fraternity nor are we hobos planning a cross country hitch hiking trip. We are adults who are moving on up in the world and I'll be damned if I pack our things in black trash bags.

I dismissed his trash bag suggestion (I'm sure I lectured him for a while about growing up) and have spent the past week trying to cram everything into a depleting supply of boxes; beautiful boxes that shout, "we're adults and we can afford our new house!"

And now, with one more week to pack and not a single spare box left in sight, I packed up my closet last night taking what I'm calling a "hobo-chic" approach:

I have resorted to borrowing every spare piece of luggage my extended family owns and ironically reminded my husband yesterday when we were in Target that we needed to buy more garbage bags for... wait for it... packing.

Once again, this moving process has forced me to think outside the box... I just didn't think it would this literal. And while I first put my nose up to Adam's idea of hobo packing, I realized that I need to let go of what I think is a "perfect move" and come to terms with the fact that perfection flew out the window a loooong time ago and all that matters is me, my husband and the dozens of garbage bags that are filled with our prized possessions and memories... I just hope our new neighbors don't judge us on moving day.

Hoarders: Cocktail Napkin Edition

When we moved into this house, I brought ALL my belongings in one trip in my mini-SUV. Not an average or large SUV... a MINI one.

With less than 17 days to go until we move, I felt ambitious and thought I would start packing up. I started with a storage closet that I assumed would fill up two boxes and then planned to move onto the buffet in the dining room. Well, 9 boxes later, the storage closet is still half full and I also was ashamed to learn that I have a very serious problem: I hoard cocktail napkins.

I stumbled upon this issue after four boxes of serving platters and two hands caked with newspaper print. I walked away from the closet that was beating me and moved onto the dining room. There, to my disgust, I opened up a drawer and like a clown pulling dozens of stringed together scarves from his nose, I proceeded to take out pack after pack of cocktail napkins. From Halloween to Hanukkah (I'm Catholic, by the way) to school spirit themes, there were enough cocktail napkins to fill up the mini SUV that brought me here: 

And that's not even half of them.

Either I don't keep track of what I buy or I have a major alcohol problem. Since the latter isn't true, I realized that I'm easily charmed by cute, novelty napkins... gosh, I'm weird.

So after discovering my napkin stash, I packed the rest of the buffet and decided to call it a night, fearful of what other "collections" I would discover. Although I'll give you a preview... I opened up a kitchen drawer I haven't visited in a while and was greeted by an array of chopsticks from dozens of restaurants we have visited over the past three years. How do you say "oy vey" in Chinese?

I'm going to tackle some more packing today and I'm sure I'll continue to unearth collections and items that surprise me. This whole moving process never ceases to make me stop, worry and think about myself. This move has really exposed some of my strengths and unfortunately some of my weaknesses... I sometimes don't know how I'm going to make it to closing, but when its all said and done, I'm going to treat myself to a stiff cocktail... and at least we all know I'll have a variety of cocktail napkins to choose from.

How much does a less stressful move cost?

That question wasn't rhetorical. It actually has an answer. It costs $2,500.

We are currently getting quotes from professional moving companies to help make our move a little less stressful and the estimates have ranged anywhere from $1900 to $2500. I don't know why I'm so shocked by the cost (and ironically stressed by the quote for the service that is supposed to alleviate stress) considering I've never had to make a major move in my life and have always assumed hiring a professional would be priceless.

I moved in and out of college dorms and apartments, but all I really had to transport then was my 13 inch combo TV/VCR and suitcases of clothes that hid bottles of booze that I bribed my older sister to buy me. However, those moves cost me my street cred with co-eds as my mom embarrassed me by introducing herself to all my neighbors and my dad scared the hell out of any boy who dared to look my way.

And the move into our first home required the strength of my husband, brother-in-laws and a few friends who were only tasked to move one bedroom's worth of furniture along with a couple of old couches. That move may have only literally cost us a few pizzas and beer, but there was arguing, swearing, hurt backs and hurt feelings.

I really thought that after all those stressful, mini-move experiences that you couldn't put a price tag on hiring professionals to do the biggest move of your life for you. But apparently when that price tag is $2500 and you're draining your savings to buy a home, you start to reconsider the idea of hiring professionals and think about how strong your relationships are with those you love and if they can endure your biggest move yet with their help and u-haul.

So before I start thinking about u-hauls and trying to figure out what friends of ours can do heavy lifting AND who are also friends we wouldn't mind losing, let me try to put a value to this $2500 and justify the cost.

If we hired professional movers we could:

• Tell them what to do with no guilt... and I personally wouldn't be accused of being a "nag" (or at least be accused of that out loud). Let me tell you, if I had a dollar for every time I was called that during a move, I could EASILY pay for these movers, no question.
• Avoid having to go to marriage counseling, which I'm sure is expensive 
• Spend time being excited about the journey ahead in life and not the journey ahead in a smelly rented truck that we'd probably struggle driving
• Avoid unnecessary "I will prove to you I can move this myself and don't need you" injuries
• Impress our neighbors - I still feel like we're kids moving into a way too adult house... a moving truck says, "we totally have it together and can afford these expensive movers." They don't have to know we'll have to eat PB&J sandwiches for breakfast, lunch and dinner until our next paycheck clears.

So I guess it IS worth the money. But for $2500 they better deliver a hot latte to me in the morning and sing Broadway-worthy renditions of my favorite show tunes while working. Heck, I guess I'd even pay EXTRA for that.