This weekend is the big move into the new house. Today a group of amazing friends came over and emptied the POD. And put the furniture in place. And assembled anything needing assembled. And did some serious troubleshooting of home-related stuff along the way. Four guys, all of whom took time on a Saturday from their own wives and kids to come and do the heavy lifting for us. Four guys, without whom there is no conceivable way this move could have happened. Four guys I'm gonna kiss as soon as I get medical clearance. :)
I pretty much always feel grateful for my friends, but days like today put me in the category of "humbled," however hackneyed the word thanks to Oscar speeches. I felt this way about the move up here back in May 2007 when we had to pack up and get here in 3 weeks or less. Friends dropped everything and came over to pack up and load our stuff. I feel so humbled because--let's all agree--no one actively wants to carry couches up three flights of stairs on a Saturday. No one in their right mind *wants* to carry boxes of textbooks for 4 hours. And lets be honest--even I long ago said that my days of moving people in exchange for pizza/beer or donuts/coffee were over as soon as I turned 30. My attitude became, "we are old enough to hire actual movers rather than afflicting our friends with this crap." But life takes unexpected turns, and you find yourself at 35 needing someone to help your eating-crow ass to move. And time and again, friends come through. So I'm taking the advice of Gertrude Stein who said that silent gratitude isn't much use to anyone, and saying a giant thank you to the Fab Four and to our DC Darlings for truly--truly--living the meaning of friendship. My goal is to someday soon be able to lift your couches for you on demand. :) Barring that, I'll gladly just come to your house for your choice of pizza/beer or donuts/coffee.
I love you, my friends. As we say here in MA: wicked supah lahge.