Last night Keith and I both slept terribly. The kids all slept great because they didn't get to bed until after 10pm. However, we are in a family suite at the Guest House, which means the room directly above us is also a family suite. Apparently, they had a kicking, jumping, running toddler up there last night. That child just did not crash until around 3am. I really can't be upset, after all, I can only imagine it's another family uprooting their kids and either transferring to or from Kodiak. The change in routine has made our little crew a bit on the unusual side lately, too.
I woke up 20 minutes before the packers were due to arrive at the house. I bolted out of bed and threw on some yoga pants and what I thought was a clean sweatshirt. It wasn't until I was at the midway point between our house and the base that I looked down and realized my shirt was full of something yucky, and I remembered that yesterday I had to lean up against the dumpster to get the bear-proof (and for me, person-proof) lock to come up. At 5 ft 4 inches, I just didn't have the leverage needed to unstick the stuck rod and pull it up so I could swing the dumpster door open. So, I ran into the coffee shop for a much needed coffee and grabbed a sweatshirt to change into, since all of our clothes at the house were packed already.
I made it back to the house at 8:28am and fortunately, the packers were a little late at arriving, but they pulled in at 8:32am. Whew! Thank goodness there are no traffic lights in Kodiak to slow me down. I've been squeaking by just barely on time for everything these days. My dad raised us girls on Vince Lombardi time. And after years of being 15 minutes early for everything, I absolutely cannot stand tardiness in any form, and it makes me so overwhelmingly anxious when I think we are going to be late. So between the anxiety and the coffee, I probably wasn't as nice as I could have been today. I found myself having to pause and walk away so that I wouldn't be too bossy. I'll admit it, I'm totally a control freak. I pace the kitchen floor when Keith isn't loading the dishwasher right, so you can only imagine the turmoil I was having watching these guys load the crates full of the boxes and furniture.
The first day, everything in the house that can be boxed, is wrapped in paper and put in boxes. The second day, the furniture is disassembled and wrapped in padding. Then everything is put in gigantic crates. The crates look like giant rectangular coffins that get packed full and padded so that things don't shift around. Then the lid is nailed on the crate and the hinges are sealed and signed. The next time the crates are opened will be in the driveway of our house in Florida.
Our packers were fantastic. The lead guy's name is Dennis and he was amazing. His time management skills were top notch. There was only one bad apple in the bunch. One guy just couldn't seem to talk and work at the same time, and he really liked to talk. This fellow also did not stay on the runner during the load today and tracked quite a bit of dirt into my living room. I was not happy. It wasn't that big of a deal, since I plan to steam the carpet tomorrow morning anyway. But still, I didn't really have the time or the energy to babysit him when I had to make sure the inventory listed all of our things correctly.