Who Gives A Shit: Movin' On Up?

It's moving day for our soon-to-be dearly departed neighbors. Who will rampage through the halls with the rug rats shooting unwitting BALLER neighbors in the ass with nerf guns? Who will chalk up the sidewalks and leave love letters written in glitter glue?

Not the new neighbor, I fear.  Single woman, kid-free and loving it (?), paid in cash. Well, who knows? You BALLERS can be a juvenile crowd! 

In a now familiar spate of downward mobility for the hood's recessionista crowd, our family-friendly neighbors are selling up. Moving down the hill to a rental. Mortgage-free and loving it! But, you know what I lurve about them—aside from the fact that they hang with wine on the front stoop and act like people used to, as a rule, in Park Slope (aka decent and friendly)—they did it with a shrug and good humor. A mortgage doesn't make a house a home. 

Okay, enough of the preaching. 

Moving. When we last did it, I was seven months pregnant with our older and had my parents sit in lawn chairs on the sidewalk while we lugged our life to date into a Ryder truck. We had learned that U Haul sucks the big enchilada (what is it that stuff sucks, anyway? big banana? big bottle of Spike Lee vodka?). 

Yes, I've never had a mover, not even when we hauled our asses back and forth across the country several times, stopping to get married the first time in Chicago. That was a camping car move to California. That time, I tried to talk my groom into going to see a Tahoe time share so we could get two hundred bucks in chips. He should have known then.

On another move (the U HAUL debacle), we managed to burst tires in Evanston, run out of gas on a highway in Iowa (because the gas gauge said we had a quarter tank), and weather other incidents not the fault of UHaul, such as locking our keys in the car we were dragging behind the truck. Also, I was pissed not to be entrusted with driving the rig until I tried it and was so scared, I only made it one exit before I stopped my faux feminist whining and let the man of the house take over. 

By our last move, we'd gotten to be experts in packing and hauling but now it's been so long, I don't know if I have another one in me. And nobody seems to do it themselves anymore. 

Certainly not the well-tended denizens of this hood.

So, in honor of Meredith who actually DID do it herself and our neighbors (who aren't happy not as many moving dudes showed up as promised).... show us your best and worst movers. And don't forget funniest moving stories!