A moving experience

I got a call from Donatello Friday night and he was in what he calls, "panic mode." His number one daughter needed to be moved from her condo, NOW. The Now was to take place the next day because of an escalating somewhat messy divorce and would darling husband and I help? Sure.

With the help of a few more friends and family we packed her stuff, taking a small pizza break, in about five hours, not an easy task but we did stay somewhat to schedule. A good friend helped me pack up a small office that also housed her collections of almost everything and that job took us the entire day. We thought we were finished but when brought to our attention there was stuff lurking in the window seat friend, whom I never heard swear, said, " Is there no end to this fucking room?" It was the laughing break we all needed and she said she'd probably never live it down. She's right.

A bit of a wrinkle in the plan sent darling husband driving the Don's truck and trailer while I, for the first time, drove the '51 truck. I don't mind driving other cars but husband's cars usually have some quirky little thing you have to learn about and this one was no exception. The mirrors are pretty much for show so if you want to look out the left you'll need to stick your head out. The rear view mirror shows most of that blind spot but I'd hate to be carrying anything large in the back.

I made it with no problem and back home we divided her wordly goods between two garages and then collapsed. She bought us takeout dinner from a tasty little local joint, hmmmm garlic fries, then we drug our sorry asses home.

She was truly grateful for all the help and thanked us all so many times. Hey, it's what friends do but I will say if she entertains the thought of marriage again, the prospective must be interviewed by all that helped her move.