I wrote about Moving Day in my last post. Now I thought it would be nice to tell the story again, this time in pictures. It’s actually a collection of several moving days, spanning several years. Enjoy!
Above: Moving out of Kansas on what must have been the coldest day of that year, 2010. Mental note: don’t move in winter!
Three years later, end of 2012, moving back to the USA from Johannesburg. It’s already dark, and still more stuff to be squeezed into the container. Including, at the end, a pair of loose screws and bolts.
The South African packers redeemed themselves partially for the loose screws and the rotten potatoes by making me laugh with this cartoon on a wrapped piece of furniture.
Peaceful mayem. It all looks calm, but it’s a whirlwind.
Oh to be a kid again and going with the flow like this, without a worry in the world, knowing that Mom will make your stuff reappear on the other side. Even if your lunch box might smell like rotten potatoes.
At this point, still all looking very orderly and planned out.
Moving Day, from the kids’ perspective. So much better than Moving Day from the Mom’s perspective. Even though this Mom hates Monopoly.
The bed, already disassembled to the point where I won’t have a freakin’ clue how to put it back together. Plus there will be some key screws missing on the other side, which we don’t even know about yet at this point, and they will be screws that won’t be available anywhere in the United States. If we can ever even figure out what to call them so as to search for them online.
Now which one of these has the rotten potatoes in it?
Catching blueberries. With your mouth. Makes for good entertainment for at least 20 minutes. Also has the benefit of removing at least one edible item from the list of potentially hazardous materials making it into a container where they’re trapped for 3 months somewhere on the open seas.
See the blueberry? Will it go in or bounce off?
What emerged on the wall from under the kids’ desk. I was tempted to compare prints to feet to find out the culprit, but decided against it. One of the hazards of living in South Africa is that your kids walk around barefoot most of the time, and that the soles of their feet are black most of the time, due to all the soot in the dry winter air from the ubiquitous grass fires dotting the countryside. Naturally, some of that rubs off onto the wall under the desk.
What we called the “staging room” in our Johannesburg house in December 2012 where all the stuff was put that was not allowed in the container. Including, apparently, the toilet paper. Although sadly not the rotten potatoes.
Arrival of container, screws, and rotten potatoes in Brentwood, TN, January 2013.
Time to open up that baby. Let the screws roll out!
Emergence, thank GOD, of the South African wine we succeeded in smuggling with us. We may have parted with the hard liquor we had to leave behind, but we weren’t going to give up on the wine. But it was hidden so well we didn’t find it until the second to last box we opened.
The kind of mess you have to deal with after moving. Or maybe forever.
I almost want to puke when I remember the mess.