• Lucia Joyce

Moving Day: A Summary

I wake at 5:36, half dreaming of magic and my Aunt Cathey. I sleep fitfully until 8ish because I know I need the extra rest.

Shane bounds awake at 7:30 and I wake up to shower sounds. Falling water makes me pensive.

8:45am: I’m caffeinated and already diligently rolling mugs in squares of bubble wrap, stacking them in our last two boxes, cleaning out drawers and cupboards, bantering playfully with Shane. By 10am I’ve packed our plates, utensils, and toaster, so I toast some sourdough in the oven and squeeze a half avocado on top, spreading it around with a coffee-stir stick I found. Hot sauce and she’s good to go. :)

11:30am: I’ve loaded up my car and I’m off to the Uhaul seller... it’s actually a laundromat, but my 15’ truck pick-up is pretty seamless with an app that walks me through the photos and legalities. I‘m sporting my new matching orange shorts and sports tee, with shades and a bucket hat... I look like a wilderness camp lifeguard who tries really, really hard. All I’m missing is the whistle.

12pm: We are joined by our friend Grebe, who maybe felt obligated to help us because helped him move just two weeks ago, but who seems to be pretty happy cracking puns and trying out his Scottish and Canadian accents, while maneuvering furniture and scrap wood around corners and down stairs.

2pm: First unload at our Reseda house. It’s 85 degrees and a little chaotic. Other roommates and friends are here and social distancing isn’t exactly the priority. COVID-19 provides a big second-guessing-of-every-choice machine. A quick handful of pineapple and I’m back on the road, in this beastly, bouncing truck, trying not to graze other trucks with my massive rear view mirrors. The heat and the manual window rollers remind me of the family minivan on road trips to Kelowna with no AC—just the summer breeze and my sweaty legs shifting in the seat.

3:30pm: We load up the truck again with Simon’s stuff from his place in Chatsworth. Sport bike, squat rack, weights, bosu ball, floor mats—I like his priorities. Fitness isn’t my go-to without friends and equipment to motivate. Speaking of fitness, my arms and legs are starting to lag.

4:30pm: Another unload at the house. I forgo the first round of carry-ins and go straight for the watermelon and salad Shane’s been prepping. We’ve been dressing our salads with a little sauerkraut and fresh lemon juice from the tree in our backyard. The lemons are lumpy on the outside but they peel and eat so beautifully. As a Canadian, a personal citrus tree always blows my mind.

530pm: My last Uhaul drive. I pull up to a light next to a city bus, and look over to find I’m at eye level with the bus driver for a change. She smiles at me through her mask and my day is made for the 100th time. The laundromat/Uhaul manager gives me a broom to sweep out the cab, then it’s back to the old place for final clean up.

6:15pm: I call my Mom. We talk about the move and her health since recovering from COVID (it’s good but she’s looking to jump on a stricter diet). She tells me about Caribbean avocados—they’re bigger and sweeter. I hang up and lay on the floor to meditate. My body and mind are grateful for the break.

9:15pm: I mop the last square of our empty apartment. I’ve cleaned out the fridge and given everything a good scrub. Mom would be proud. I’m exhausted.

10pm: One last unload into the house. Mostly plants and fridge stuff so it can’t just be dropped and thought about later. All my plant babies need strategic lighting. I put away our many condiments and stow a bunch of cleaning products. Shane hands me a mason jar of homemade strawberry lemonade—it’s puckery and delicious, and apparently it was a hit with the guy who delivered the washer and dryer earlier. :)

11pm: Shane serves up green curry with chickpeas and rice. It is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen but I’m too sleepy to take a photo. He happily pops up to clean the kitchen and run another load of laundry. I try to activate the internet connection but there’s some error with Spectrum and we have to call back at 5am or later. I sigh and start banging out another blog post with my thumbs.

11:47pm: I can barely lift my arms but the post is finished. I look forward to the shower and sleep of a lifetime. Tomorrow we can take it all in and gently find space for all our things and dreamy eventuals (Shane has a growing build-list). Tomorrow I can have coffee in a yard under a tree, get to know housemate quirks, drive only a small amount in my little hybrid car, and pick up the ukulele again.

When your tired face is still pretty cute

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