Of the two halves of a move, the first half is by far the worst. All the preparation, packing, worrying is front loaded. After your stuff goes on the truck, a calm settles in. That’s where we are now. Because there is no other stuff on the truck, our drivers are heading straight to Evanston. They were willing to be there first thing on Thursday, but I asked them to stall till lunchtime Thursday to give me a little more time to get myself up there. Tomorrow I hop in a car with the dog, and point the car north by northwest. Since our cable is supposed to be hooked up Saturday morning (and cable modem as well), conceivably I could be back to normal by the weekend. Incroyable! Breath is not being held, though.
All in all, once the movers got here everything got better. There were only two of them, but they still managed to knock out the whole deal between 9:30 and 4:30. They didn’t pack much – we had already done 85% of the stuff – but they did the crucial things like dishes and highly breakables. The driver is a dead ringer for a bearded Tony Soprano! I wish I had a digital camera so I could post a picture of this guy – Gandolfini to the core. They were solid Illinois boys, no nonsense and heading back home so they have every incentive to book it on up. I liked them a lot. 48 hours from now, I should be in a house in Evanston with all my stuff.