I’ve always had a dream of having a family, a home, a cat and a dog and growing old with the woman I love and my children inheriting our house when we die. Sadly that dream will never be. The marriage failed, the house was sold, the children are grown and I’m still single. Of course not for lack of trying. I’ve tried and I’ve tried. Perhaps I’ve tried too hard or too much.
The side effects of these adventures is that I’ve unfortunately have moved way more times than any human should endure. I’ve moved so many times I have forgotten some of the places I’ve lived. In the past 14 months, I’ve moved three times. Not what I had in mind. I moved from Virginia to Michigan, then last month my lease ended. Thinking I would only need temporary lodging, I moved in with my Mother. Then, I got the news that my overtime and health insurance were being dropped at work. Suddenly my income bracket changed by several thousand dollars per year and not in my favor. Now I’m going to have to deal with subsidized healthcare, lodging and possibly more. I actually make more than most jobs start around here and I still refuse to work myself to death juggling two jobs the last few years I’m alive. So putting aside my pride, I’m dealing with it.
However, one thing I don’t enjoy about living with my mother, is that every time she gets a bug up her ass, she moves. And she’s a pack-rat to put it politely. Her house is neat but filled to the rafters with stuff that she will likely never use and tons and tons of decorative crap. I swear she could have her own TV show called “Organized Hoarders”.
While I on the other hand, have a queen size bed, desk and chair. Clothing and a minimal amount of personal items and photographs. To give you a comparison, when we moved from Virginia to Michigan, we used a 26′ U-Haul truck. I took up literally 4 feet of it at the most. Her stuff took up the other 22. For a little old lady, that’s obnoxious. It took us two full days to load this truck. Three days to drive it here, and then another two days to unload all her crap into her house. While it only took me half a day to move into my apartment and another half a day to move out.
My mother can’t understand why no one wants to help her move. Her latest move (which we aren’t finished with yet) has taken three days so far, two trips with a 14′ U-Haul truck and 2 trailers full of stuff that my son helped us with. And we aren’t done getting stuff out of the old house yet. The only reason I have time to write this is because I have to work today. Worse is she’s trying to stuff a nearly 1,500 square foot house of junk into a 1,000 square foot place.
The irony is, I can’t wait to move away from her again. Of course I’m having a bit of trouble landing a place of my own in East Jordan. Though I’m getting so sick of dealing with this moving crap of my mothers junk, I’m about ready to take any affordable opportunity. She thinks I’m kidding but the next time a bug gets up her ass to move, she had better save money for professional movers. I’m afraid to even consider asking my sons to help me move next time after this ordeal. Although I’m praying my next move will finally be my last for a very long time.