The Big Move

This past weekend, I moved into the house we will share to start our life together.  Just a rental on a nice little street in a cute little town to call our home.  Overall, the move went pretty well.  A friend and I moved all the breakable stuff to minimize casualties and boy, am I glad we did.  These movers did not seem to afford the level of care I feel my belongings deserve - especially the bed.

Now this bed is big. And I know it. King sized. Next generation memory foam pillow top.  Gorgeous. Absolute Heaven to sleep on.  Fantastically heavy.  To tell the truth, this bed is the entire reason I decided we should hire movers in the first place - because none of us wanted to have to carry it down three flights of apartment stairs, then up another flight in the new house.  So we agree to hire the movers, anticipating good things.  Darling fiance hangs out at my apartment with the movers and oversees the process of getting this bed out the door, down the stairs, into the truck.  On the phone he tells me it's a good thing I wasn't there to witness this.  I'm still relaxed thinking well, if they got it out of the bedroom, through the Tetrus hallway, down the stairs, and into the truck, surely the hard part is over.  Fast forward to an hour later. Here are the movers, here is my mattress - now freed from its plastic cover I carefully used to keep it protected and clean - here is the front door that seems just a bit too small.  I'm in the kitchen as the sounds of grunting and cursing reach me.  "Lady! You better really love this f*cking bed!"  I do, actually.  So the sight of them attempting to simultaneously smoosh it through the doorway and keep it from falling off the front steps onto the soggy ground below is a little terrifying to me.  Finally they succeed and it's time to tackle the stairs.  The stairs also seem to be just a bit too short for this mattress to fit comfortably.  But don't worry. These guys are professionals.  Somehow they manage to fold and bend this mattress like fluffy origami to squeeze it just past the overhang.  Buttons go flying. Handles tear off.  I flee to the kitchen and hide until its over.  And somehow it is before I hit nervous breakdown. 

 Since the move, I've been frantic to get life back to normal as quickly as possible.  I unpacked as many boxes as I could, which is pretty difficult considering my lack of storage-type furniture.  We entertained our first dinner guest and watched our first Flyers game.  We celebrated our first household birthday (his) and are planning the next (mine).  Decorating began in most of the rooms and I have been busy concepting the others.  All in all, a good start.