Moving hell

Yesterday it was time to clear out our apartment. Somehow I expected, or more like envisioned my time after leaving work and before b-school more like drinking a rum cocktail with one of those tiny umbrellas under a coconut tree rather than the hectic time I've had the past two weeks getting ready for moving a country, tying up lose ends for work and, well, b-school stuff (which I am so far away from finishing). It was a last minute decision, but it seemed a 3 day scuba diving vacation down in the red sea will be worth the time we don't spend on packing and getting ready. It totally was. However, in order to get ready for moving day after the mover, who also packs the apartment bailed on us, we needed to pack strait through the night. At half past midnight I couldn't see strait anymore so we set the alarm for a three hour nap and then continued until 13:00, when the movers came. Movers have the tendency to always be unhappy. Unhappy with the deal's details, the pay, the tip etc. I think it's part of their training. Two of them actually were quite nice. The third, who looked like he was running the show was less kind - to us and to his colleagues. I won't bore you with the details of the rest of the hellish day spent with the movers, but I will say this: I am never moving house again. After graduation, when I work on the west coast, I'll come by on weekends back to Charlottesville to the grad student complex. Maybe there's a start up idea here. Maybe I could switch apartments during the weekdays with someone with the same agenda who lives in the west coast. Maybe we could have listings of all of those switchable apartments, say we'll call it Greg's list or something. Maybe writing a post when I'm so tired wasn't such a great idea after all...