Moving Day
The day has finally come. Sunday, the Fourth of September. A few days ago, I reserved a small U-Haul truck, which I was supposed to pick up at 2 in the afternoon. So, I cut short my sorting through boxes, missed the VTA 22 bus by only moments, caught the Caltrain, and got off the train in Mountain View. At the Mountain View Caltrain station, there are trees planted in the parking lot. I managed to twist my ankle on the edge of a square in which a tree was growing. I had to sit for five or six minutes on the bench nearby to let the pain ebb and keep marching toward El Camino Real.
I made it to the bus, but only by hobbling as best I could to catch it. A short time later, I picked up my U-Haul and headed back to Menlo Park. I grabbed a soda and resumed my sorting.
At five, my friend, Kai, came over. I was still sorting. We moved things around a little bit, while I continued to go through stuff (because I didn’t organize anything to speak of in advance). We finally grabbed some food at almost ten, loaded up the truck, and drove it under cover of darkness to my new house in Sunnyvale. After helping me haul in my dresser and bed and driving me back to get my car, Kai went home and I stopped by to pick up a lock. There’s quite a bit of stuff still left in the truck, but we got all of the large stuff. I don’t know where I’m going to put all this, because I have a significantly smaller room than the one I’m leaving. I guess I’ll have to find a way.
Thanks a billion for your help, Kai. You rule.
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