After a morning filling boxes and totes, yesterday afternoon Deb and I loaded the truck and made two trips to the storage unit — the first hauling 24 boxes and a few small totes, the second with eight of the 27-gallon containers I’d been stuffing.
As much as we loved our now-departed Tacomas, as competent and efficient as they were, damn, that Silverado is the right tool for the job we have to do. The more we drive it and use it, the more we appreciate the space and the way everything is laid out.
Simple things we’ve added, like additional tie-down loops in the bed and a large cargo net, help make these preliminary moving runs an absolute breeze. And I’ve settled into a rhythm using the tool box — tie-downs, rubber bungees and tools are right where I need them, easy to get to.
By the way, the AC’s still chillin’ just fine. Knock wood, but we may have that problem licked.
We’re looking at a couple more days’ work before taking a break Saturday to attend the “Red, White & Bluestone” concert featuring Aaron Lewis. After that we’ll throw ourselves back into The Move on Sunday and Independence Day, cramming the dumpster as full as we can before it leaves Tuesday.
Friday and Saturday the auction crew will arrive to begin hauling our stuff away to the site of the sale. The auction itself is set for Sunday the 10th, after which we’ll be living in the bus parked next to a pretty-much-empty house.
That next week we’ll have a service come in, clean the place and shampoo the carpet (one room). Once it’s suitably spiffy, Second Chance Ranch will be for sale and we’ll head for The Ozarks.
We can see the beginning of the end from here, or maybe it’s the end of the beginning. In any case, shit feels like it’s gettin’ real — finally.
One year ago today, we landed ourselves a toad.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.