So all in all, the move went pretty well. We don’t have the Interweebs at home yet, and won’t until Thursday between 2pm and 5pm. Obviously, I’m alive. Kate is alive. The cats are alive (but traumatized). My right leg is a mass of bruises and scrapes from slamming it into various boxes and bits of furniture repeatedly. So let’s run it down, shall we?
I left work and went down to the house for our final walkthrough. Easy peasy. There were a couple of U-Hauls there and a cleaning lady, but that was it. We walked through. Everything looked pretty good. The bar was gone, but that was expected after they decided they wanted $500 for it. Their gas grill was still on the back deck. “I hope they forgot that,” I said.
Our closing went off without a hitch — in and out in about 45 minutes. The owners informed us that we could have their gas grill, which we thanked them for. They were really nice. We got money back at close and went to the bank before heading back to the apartment. My mother-in-law came over and helped us pack. She blew through the kitchen (the only major room left) like a hurricane and after she left we continued with the nickel-and-dime stuff. There was still going to be stuff that was necessary to pack Friday morning, which brings us to, obviously…
We got up early, got dressed, and began getting all the last-minute shit in boxes. While I was corralling the cats, the movers showed up, so we wound up with Scout in the downstairs bathroom and the other three in the upstairs bath. All was generally quiet for them — Scout stayed behind the toiler and was generally happy to see me when I visited him, but otherwise was pretty quiet.