Murphy's Moving Day

Murphy's law

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Not to be confused with Muphry's law.

Murphy's law is an adage or epigram that is typically stated as: "Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong".


And let me tell ya...it did.

Shortly after the wedding, Hubs and I began casually house hunting. Neither of us were exceptionally happy with the area in which we were living, and we thought it'd be nice to have a new place north of Atlanta, where I grew up. Our friend Awesome John happened to mention that the house next door to his was up for sale, and upon scoping the place out, we fell in love. It was an adorable little four bedroom with a big deck overlooking a beautiful koi pond and an in-ground pool. As quick as we could manage, we laid claim to our new territory, and before we knew it, moving day was fast approaching.

We had been moving small car loads of boxes over the course of about three weeks, and were preparing for the much-anticipated "big trip". You know, the one that means you can finally sleep over at your own house. So we took the waterbed apart, shoved the couches out the door, and loaded up. The very last thing to grab were our furbabies. We have two dogs named Laci and Griffin, and two cats named Shoka and Gootie. Laci and Griffin happily jumped into the back of the car, and as we only had one cat carrier, Gootie and Shoka had the pleasure of each other's company for the hour long drive.

About ten minutes from the new house, Hubs and I pull off at a gas station to pick up a bag of kitty litter and some gas. As Hubs opened his door to get out, a breeze wafted into the car...

The first indication that a catastrophe is about to take place is usually the smell.

Whatever I was smelling, it was absolutely rank. Like nothing I could even begin to describe. Thinking Laci had gotten yet another case of motion sickness, I quickly jumped out of the car and opened the back door to check on my babies. But it wasn't Laci. You see, Shoka had only ever been in a car once before and it was when she was a little kitten. So being stuck in the carrier with a not-so-happy Gootie scared the crap out of her. Literally. There was cat crap everywhere inside the carrier. Hubs got back in the car, I explained the smell, and we proceeded to the new house in a less cheerful state.

Upon our arrival, my very first to-do was to get the cats out of the carrier and bathed. I felt like such a terrible mother for making them so miserable. So I carried them into the guest bathroom, and shut the door so I could go hunt down the box of kitty shampoo and towels.

As I'm searching, Hubs kindly reminds me that the dogs most likely have to potty after our little adventure. So taking a short cigarette break, we step out onto our back porch and let the dogs out. Within two minutes, Laci had jumped into the pool. (A word to the wise: If you live anywhere in the Continental US, Mid-December is a bad time to move!) She immediately realized just how cold it was, and attempted to climb out. Of course, she had no idea where the stairs were, and had never been in a pool before. So you could literally see the panic on her face as she went under.

Hubs immediately ran down the stairs and yanked her out of the pool, only to turn around and see Griffin falling through the icy koi pond. I now have two turd-covered cats and two frozen wet dogs. And I still can't find a towel.

Ripping open box after box, I finally found the one towel that Hubs and I had managed to pack. He used it to dry off our slushpuppies as quickly as he could, and slung it over the deck railing to dry out a bit. After coming back inside, he offered to bathe the kitties himself, as he was already cold and wet and dirty. Believe me, I felt bad that Hubs was so miserable. But I was certainly grateful that he offered.

So as I began unloading the pieces of the waterbed and bringing them upstairs, I was a little confused when I heard Hubs shouting all the profanities in the English language in alphabetical order. Dropping everything, I ran to the bathroom door to inquire as to what was wrong. His reply was that there was no hot water. Lovely. It's ten degrees outside, and no hot water. The heater had been set to "vacation" because the house had been empty. So for those of you keeping track, I now have four icy, wet animals. And one very pissed off husband.

I guess the kitties weren't too happy either. Especially when Hubs asked me to go get the towel he had used to dry off the dogs, and I went outside to find that it had frozen to the deck. Shoka and Gootie spent the night in one of the spare rooms, huddled next to the heater in attempts to drip-dry.

Finally it seemed as though all our animals were situated and safe, even if they weren't too pleased with their current circumstances. It was nearing 4:00 AM and Hubs and I were absolutely exhausted. We desperately wanted a shower, but as there was only one towel (which was still filthy and frozen to the porch), we were going to have to do without. So we set to work on rebuilding the frame of the waterbed. As we were using up the very last of our strength to get the 300lb. bladder into the frame, a thought occurred to me: No amount of body heat on this big and beautiful earth is going to warm a California King size waterbed filled with icy water.


It was a cold and restless night.