Adventures in Your New Life, Part 3

We have wireless!! I shouted up the kitchen stairs of our new home. The kitchen staircase opens into my husband’s playroom, filled with keyboards, musical instruments, his iMac—which is only half his office. More on that later.

But there was no response. He was taking another nap.

My sister and her husband have just left, on their way to Reno to meet his family members. They spent four days with us, my sister unpacking the kitchen, my brother-in-law fixing things like a broken fence and the drier, and, as they live in California, dutifully fastening bookshelves, breakfront and TV stand to the walls in preparation for the Big One.

This will not be a blog about our addiction to technology, a need that feels like life-saving dialysis though not even close a comparison. It’s not a blog about how we once used a telephone and a phonebook to find curtain rods. This blog is about how a series of intense disappointments over-shadow things like the wireless achievement. All I did was enter my new address into the Xfinity website, unpack our Arris modem/router, connect it to the cable and turn it on. No DNS URL ISP ABC 12-digit numbers to enter. Not even the password. All machines remembered what they were supposed to do. Unpacking and turning on my iMac was all I had to do to be able to write and post this blog.

But disappointments mounted. A careful planner, I set everything up, expecting clockwork precision. It’s a flaw.

The Rental Truck.

Budget offered me an AARP discount and a damn good rate. They linked me up with muscle, too; local movers who would come out to help. We picked up a 26 foot truck, having ordered 24 furniture pads and a handtruck. I broke rule number 12—look in the truck to make sure the pads and handtruck were there before driving away.

Seattle Budget is not recommendable. The guys were friendly, but sketchy. When I called them about the missing equipment, it was “oh, my guy must have put them in the wrong truck. We only have six now.”

He did refund me, but my husband and I exchanged glances. There was no way they had 24 furniture pads to begin with.

My goal of leaving Seattle by 8AM were dashed when 1.) my husband crunched the fender of a parked car when returning to the dealer to pick up the car trailer we had also rented. 2.) the first movers we hired bailed early. The company owner arrived on time with two helpers and an attitude. They didn’t like the dog turds in the dog yard and they didn’t like the dust and dog hair. Am I supposed to vacuum my house for movers? Doesn’t that come after when they move the furniture that we can’t move?

So, we were late arriving in Albany, Oregon. I called our Albany movers and had to reschedule for the next day, which they accommodated. Then, there was the ‘unhook the trailer’ scenario. No, more like a comic-tragedy, Abbot and Costello style. After an hour of hammering, yelling, prying by my husband and brother-in-law, the neighbor walked over and said, that little handle over the ball is s’posed to be upright.

The movers were two hours late, which was a good thing. The company owner of this outfit told me he didn’t want to leave his first customer in the lurch. Not sure what that meant—anyway, when Abraham, Brenden and Kelly arrived, they emptied the truck in two hours, read the labels on the boxes, asked where things should go if they weren’t sure. They smiled and joked, were super friendly and polite. (5 star rating, BTW).

One is supposed to tip gig movers such as this. We gathered up all the cash we could find.

The next four days were rocky-smooth. That’s the only way I can describe them. Our tenant pirated the electrical tails for both our stove and drier, leaving behind the wrong ones—I’m getting my money back for having to buy new ones. However the washing machine died just as I was running a cleaning wash to get rid of the dirt and tiny rocks the tenants left in it. It’s as if they washed a blanket that had been under a pile of dirt. Maybe I could say the motor burned up because the drain hose was clogged?

Same crap with the drier vent, once we got that running.

Other than that, I woke up this morning, made espresso, bid goodby to my wonderful relatives, and thought, Wow. This is my kitchen.

Retirement and a new house. Worth the pain.



About Jill Zeller

Author of numerous novels and short stories, Jill Zeller is a Left Coast writer, 2nd generation Californian, retired registered nurse, and obsessed gardener. She lives in Oregon with her patient husband, 2 silly English mastiffs and 2 rescue cats—the silliest of all. Her works explore the boundaries of reality. Some may call it fantasy, but there are rarely swords and never elves. More to the point, she prefers to write as if myth, imagination and hallucination are as real as the chair she is sitting on as she writes this. Jill Zeller also writes under the pseudonym Hunter Morrison


Adventures in Your New Life, Part 3 — 3 Comments

  1. As a disorganized person by nature, I always expect the worst of moves and am seldom disappointed. But given that you’re efficient, your woes seem unfair.

    On the bright side, that’s a great house. I am jealous even though the thought of moving again gives me the heebie jeebies.

    • 55,000. Village-like, I think, about an hour south of Portland, Oregon. Quiet, moderate growth, farm-country.