She drives the big rig...

Yep, that's me, driving a 16-foot truck. Can you tell how scared spitless I am or that there are tears in my eyes at the prospect of driving 2 hours down the highway in this vehicle packed with my life in the back? To the brim?

I have decided that driving this truck was a lot like going to the dentist. Scared, nervous, anxious, petrified at the prospect (ok, already, I have a dental phobia that I forgot to mention in my earlier post). But once in the driver's seat (or dentist's chair), it's not that bad. I did ok. I actually am the one who backed the truck into the driveway. Now I have to admit when I got into the cab, the first thing I noticed was NO REARVIEW MIRROR. I almost got out to report the damaged part until I realized there was no need for one since behind me was a wall of yellow. There was no need for a rearview mirror. That's why there were mirrors the size of Albuquerque on the sides of my big yellow truck.

So it was a gray day in St. Louis, but the rain held off as we packed the truck with my bedroom furniture and just a few boxes. My life. Well, there were a little more than a "few" boxes, embarrassingly so. I was the second youngest person helping, and the youngest was only a year younger. So that means, 48, 49, and then my sister who is 55, my other sister 60, a friend who is in his mid-60s (whose wife bragged he could fit a 3-room house in a Volkswagon and I believe her after seeing the miracle he performed that day) and neighbors who are 67. Do the math. I think that means the average age on the St. Louis end was 60 something. But damn, were they incredible workers. Even the STBX did an incredible amount of work while he watched me pack up my life in the back of the truck. He took the picture shown while I tried to hold back the tears.

I took the train to St. Louis the night before and it was 2 hours late so instead of getting in around 9:30, I did not get in until midnight. Then with the nerves and anxiety, I did not fall asleep until 3 and up at 8 to get the truck. I was pulled this way and that with people asking me tons of questions. Apparently, they thought I was running the show. My brain was pulled in every direction. My favorite memory was 4 of us, my friend, my neighbor, my sister, and myself pulling (or pushing?) a mattress up the basement steps. Nothing like hearing your sister yell, "Push" as if you're delivering a baby. We were laughing so hard, and given our collective ages, that did not bode well on the bladder. Glad to say, there were no accidents but several close calls. So the "I can pack a house into a Volkswagon" friend did his thing, and I was off to Columbia. The rains held off, and there was no wind. I was truckin'. You would have been proud of me.

I hit Columbia in record time with no incident. (I even passed cars twice on the highway using those huge side mirrors.) Got to my daughter's apartment and, again, backed into the necessary space like a pro. We got about a quarter moved when the rains came. Deluge. I have never been so soaked to the bone in such a short time because we were literally in the middle of moving something with no time to run for cover. Luckily, I had lost enough weight that I actually borrowed something of my daughter's to wear. Minor victory. I could not have done what I did that day had I not been working out the past 3 months, so word up, work out before you move. On this end, we had 2 daughters, 2 boyfriends, and this old lady so the average was much lower. And now we had to get all this stuff, minus the few pieces of my daughter's furniture, into a 6 x 12 storage unit. (I continue to be homeless until we sell the house. That definitely accounted for some of the anxiety.) By 6 we were done, and I had been on my feet for 10 hours with 5 hours of sleep. The kids were bitching that was turning walking slower into an artform until I reminded them that I had been moving crap all day on both ends. Fed the youngins pizza (NO BEER) and headed back to my sweet room at my friend's house. (God love her.) I was in a bath of hot hot water by 10 and asleep by 10:30. Now I know why everyone on Little House on the Prairie had no depression or anxiety issues. They were too exhausted.

Woke up this morning immobilized. I have never ever been in so much pain in my life, but then again, I had never move at this age. Took 3 Advil and sat in the hot hot tub (again). Had to get the truck back. When I dropped it off, this gruff but sweet man said, "You didn't park the truck, did you? That's our job." He then asked which truck was mine, and I told him, "Second one there," and he said, "Damn, girl, you did an excellent job. Do we have your number in case we need you to come work for us? You do better than some of my guys." I beamed with pride but refused further employment with Penske. One time in the symbolic dentist's chair was enough for me. You won't find me driving the big rigs any time soon, bit it's nice to know I have a future in truckin' if I want. My entire life, with a few exceptions, is now in a storage bin.

Pray the house sells soon so I can make the next move. And pray the divorce is over soon. The STBX and I are talking again and things are going smoother (in case you were wondering). Thank you for understanding why I haven't been blogging a lot lately. Can't blog about work (although I have some great stories for my book when I quit), can't blog about my personal life (oh, I bet you're dying of curiosity now), and I won't blog about the divorce (taking the high road and scared of what could happen if I do). So I may have to do a meme stolen from Os. Oh, and I signed up for private swimming lessons. That should be fun to blog about if I don't drown first. My next post? DOES FAT FLOAT???