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Moving Diary: Farewell, Indiana! Truckin’ it to North Carolina.

Tuesday, June 29, 2010

12:00pm – Drive to Budget with Baby Brother to pick up truck that I reserved with 20% off coupon. Beat that, U-haul. After visual inspection, decide to get 16′ truck instead of 10′ truck to be sure everything will fit. Desk clerks are answering phones and swearing at their 1980′s dot-matrix printer that is malfunctioning like any printer older than my Baby Brother would. Remembering my Jetta vs. armored truck incident, I buy extra insurance.

12:30pm – Dial Baby Bro’s cell phone from my Saturn as I trail behind him on the way home, totally disregarding Oprah’s No Phone Zone campaign.

“Hey, did they put a dolly on the truck?”

“…”

12:40pm – Say hi to clerks who hate their jobs and grab last dolly, tossing it in the trunk with my back seats folded down.

1:00pm-4:00pm – Baby Bro and I load the truck with approximately 70 boxes, two bookshelves, a night stand, a kitchen cart, and a TV stand. Process goes so amazingly smoothly that I fully expect the truck to explode tomorrow morning.

Wednesday, June [...]

I’ll probably regret asking this, but do you have any moving advice?

Photo by clevercupcakes / CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

A month from now I will probably be neck-deep in brown boxes and packing tape, sniffing a Sharpie marker to relax. I’ll be moving to North Carolina at the beginning of July, and while I’ve moved across town and moved 70 miles away for college, I’ve never moved out of state. Well, not on my own. My parents moved us out of state several times when I was a kid. My only part in those moves was the “game” my parents had us play afterwards where my brothers and I competed to see who could collect the most packing inventory stickers off the furniture. At the time I seriously thought this was a game, and not a clever way to get your kids to do slave labor gleefully.

My memories of former cross-city moves include several last-minute carloads of crap piled into the back seat that I ferried across town, all while saying, “I think we can get the rest in just one more trip!” Ha! Since I don’t see [...]

Moving to the tar heel state! (Uh, what is a tar heel?)

Photo by andrewbain / CC BY 2.0

About seven years ago, my dad told us he was going to North Carolina on a business trip. Then, well, let’s just say he never made it to North Carolina and the next time I saw him was at the divorce hearing. Unlike my father, when I tell you I’m going to North Carolina, I’m actually going there, like, to live.

It all started last November when I flew out to Los Angeles. I stepped off the plane and it was so sunny that I felt a surge of Vitamin D coursing through my veins and I could hear the birds singing just for me. I wanted to lick the sunshine, or at least pack it in my suitcase. Then, I returned to Indiana, where my nostril hairs froze and the sky was most definitely NOT the color of topaz or even tourmaline, and I thought, “Why the hell am I living in this shithole?”

Then my consciousness replied, “Because of your mom and brother, you numnuts.” And I was like, [...]

Flying kites at Kittyhawk

I couldn’t help but hum Let’s Go Fly a Kite as my brother was running around Kill Devil Hills trying to launch my mother’s rainbow flying machine, complete with streamers. This new theme song was somewhat welcome on our North Carolina vacation last week, because after we’d eaten sandwiches at a place called The Yellow Submarine I’d had that Beatles song stuck in my head. The wind wasn’t that strong, but we were able to make the kite fly for several minutes at a time. Then we hiked up the rest of the BFH (Big F**king Hill), which I thought they were going to have to rename “Kill PastaQueen Hills,” to see the Wright Brothers memorial.

That’s me, hanging out with Orville, while some kid tries to break into the monument in the background. Kill Devil Hills is right next to Kittyhawk where the Wright Brothers discovered motorized flight. Did you know they owned a bike shop? I wonder if they could adjust my brakes for me.

After we got back to Durham, we went to a [...]

The Bookshop cats

I visited a bookshop in Chapel Hill called The Bookshop, a feat of creative naming I have not seen since my 6-year-old self named my stuffed dog “Doggy.” The Bookshop did not feature dogs, but two cats instead.

Red was hanging out in Kiddie Lit trying to get a catnap when I paparazzied him. I strolled further down the seemingly endless, narrow hallway that comprises the Bookshop, wondering if I’d entered a TARDIS. At the very back, in North Carolina books, I found Elmo.

Elmo gave me a look that seemed to say, “Fine, take my picture and then beat it.” The kitties had beds and scratching posts in the bookshop window with a sign that asked patrons to please not knock on the glass. While we were there, someone entered with their dog who was not on a leash. They were promptly told to beat it before a cat vs. dog battle could ensue.

I wish the book stores in Indianapolis had cats. For now, I have to settle for the independent pharmacy on the north side [...]

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Jennette Fulda tells stories to the Internet about her life as a smartass, writer, weight-loss inspiration, chronic headache sufferer, and overall nice person (who is silently judging you). She does this at JenFul now, but you can still have fun perusing her past here.

Disclaimer: I am not responsible for keyboards ruined by coffee spit-takes or forehead wrinkles caused by deep thought.

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