The move plans have gotten adjusted slightly. Originally I thought I’d take my time, slowly migrating stuff from my current place to my new place. Then Krissy pointed out that it sucks to feel like you’re living in 2 places at once, and that movers are a lot cheaper during the week than on the weekends. (This is true. The hourly rates are less, and I found a few of them that only have one-hour minimums on weekdays, whereas it’s typically a four-hour minimum on weekends.) So fine. I’m going to haul over as much as I can this weekend, and then I’m taking the day off on Monday, which is when I scheduled the movers. I’m probably going to rent a pickup truck from Home Depot to make this weekend easier, they’re pretty cheap & I should be able to haul almost all of my stuff in just a couple of trips. (The Subaru carries quite a bit, but it would take several more trips if I used it.) Then I’ll really only need the movers for my big things – bed, armoire & futon.
So, I’ve been packing like crazy when I get home from work in the evenings, and I’m getting really good about throwing stuff away. I’m averaging about 2-3 major dumpster trips every day. I’ve also accumulated a whole bunch of stuff that I want to give away to Goodwill. Problem is, a couple of the items are too big to fit in my car. My mom said to call them & they’ll come pick it up. Apparently this policy varies from state to state. I called the Goodwill that’s a couple of miles away from me, and this is an excerpt of the conversation I had with the (very clearly) middle eastern man who answered the phone:
Me: Hi, I have a few things that I’d like to donate to Goodwill, and I need to schedule a pickup.
Goodwill Dude: Goodwill no pickup.
Me: Um, I’m sorry. Did you say that you don’t do pickups?
GD: Yes, yes, Goodwill no pickup.
Me: Well, some of these things won’t fit in my car, so I don’t have any way to get them to you if you don’t come get them.
GD: You come store, much welcome.
Me: Excuse me?
GD: (repeats with emphasis & mild irritation) You come store, much welcome.
I love that last sentence. It makes no sense at all and yet I knew exactly what he meant. It was also funny because he was so clearly annoyed by the fact that I couldn’t understand him (I’m guessing a lot of people don’t, which has got to get frustrating after a while), so it was obvious that I was most certainly NOT “much welcome” by him.
Anyway, after that pleasant little phone chat, I decided that Goodwill can kiss my ass (pardon me), and I called the Salvation Army. They’re coming on Friday. Of course, they wouldn’t tell me exactly what time they’re coming, so I’m just going to leave it all outside with a big “for Salvation Army” note on it. If someone steals it, I really don’t care.