Last week, I told the story of my trek from Bismarck as far as Seattle. And now, as the late great Paul Harvey used to say, here’s the rest of the story of my move to Aberdeen.
On the morning of March 1, after I shook off the horrors of Snoqualmie Pass and got a good night’s sleep, my brothers and I caravanned from their Seattle home to the house I’m renting here in Aberdeen, which I had not yet seen in person. My brothers had come to look at it on my behalf, and I’d toured it with them via FaceTime. All of the formalities had been accomplished online and by phone.
In my car were my dog, Rose; my three cats; and the basic needs to get me through until the movers brought the rest of my stuff. In my brothers’ car were their dog, Harold, and a queen-size pillowtop (just the top, not a whole mattress) so that I’d have more than just my sleeping bag between me and the vinyl floor until my bed arrived. Our plan was to empty my car and get the cats settled, then take our dogs to play at the beach in Ocean Shores.
The house was supposed to be ready for me to move in when we arrived. It wasn’t. We found the landlords frantically working, and there was so much left to do: Several rooms had to be painted, the garage and the other storage area were still full of stuff, some minor repairs and touch-ups needed to be made, and a deep cleaning was required.
I was a little taken aback, but honestly I wasn’t upset. I knew this family had lived in the house for five years before deciding to expand into a larger home and rent this one out. I knew they had just moved into their new place a few days earlier and were dealing with all that entails. I knew their children had been sick for a week. I knew they’d never been landlords before and didn’t realize how great an undertaking it would be at this stage. And I knew they were good people who had done their best to honor their commitment to me, and were quite distressed that they hadn’t met their deadline.
And so, knowing all this, I didn’t go ballistic. Instead, I said that since my moving truck wouldn’t arrive for another week, they should take their time to finish what needed to be done over the next several days. Relieved, they finished the tasks they were working on when we arrived, then came back the next evening — and the next — with reinforcements. Slowly but surely, everything got done before the movers arrived. I even got to choose my bedroom color and then helped with some of the painting, which I enjoy doing. Wins all around.
During that week, with no TV and limited internet access, I also got quite a lot done on my own. I shopped for curtains, a washer/dryer set and a few new pieces of furniture. I read two (count ’em, two!) books. I did a massive grocery run to stock my fridge, freezer and pantry. I drove around town, visited a couple of antique stores and tried a few locally owned restaurants. I griped about the snow, which I thought I had escaped when I left North Dakota. And I started my new job here at The Daily World.
By the time the movers finally arrived March 8, I had settled into my new hometown fairly well — and it sure was nice to sleep in my own bed for the first time in nearly two weeks. It only took me three days to unpack all the boxes and get everything in order. I even took Rose for our first long walk that weekend, when the skies cleared for the first time.
But as soon as I thought I was all set, one of the kitties decided to “christen” a brand-new bedspread in the guestroom. The usual remedies didn’t work, so now I have to buy another bedspread for that room — not to mention a new mattress.
Yeah, now I’m home.
Kat Bryant is lifestyle editor of The Daily World. Reach her at kbryant@thedailyworld.com or on Facebook at Kat Bryant-DailyWorld.
