When we moved from California to Chicago in 2001 we had the brilliant idea to move ourselves. So on moving day, at the crack of dawn, we went to pick up the Penske and commenced to loading up three bedrooms, two and a half baths, one den, one living room, one kitchen, and one garage worth of stuff. We took a break in the middle of the day to go to a farewell lunch given by my colleagues at work and to stop by the realtor's office for last minute paperwork. After all, we were making great progress and it wouldn't take too much longer after lunch before we had everything packed up. And our master plan was to finish loading the truck, put the car on the carrier, and drive the four hours to Vegas where we would spend the night.
We didn't take into account that the last half of the truck goes much more slowly than the first half, since you have to be much more conscious of space constraints. By the time everything was loaded it was 9:00 p.m. and we wanted to just die. So we made one last trip to In-n-Out and drove a whole thirty miles up the road to beautiful Mojave where we promptly found a Motel 6 and crashed. Hard.
This time around we decided to be a little more reasonable. We would wait until the movers had loaded the truck, clean up the house, and drive an hour to Merrillville, IN where we would spend the night. Not too ambitious, but enough to get us a little further down the road. By 4:30, after all tasks were complete, we realized that we would be battling Monday afternoon rush hour in order to make it to our destination. So, we headed to the Holiday Inn Express. At the mall. Less than a mile from home.
We have to start aiming lower.