I REEAAALLY Dislike Moving …
… and it doesn’t particularly matter if it’s the Lake of the Ozarks Maps and Vacation Rental site, out of a house and into a new one, or from an office with a so-so view to one that looks out over the park. For starters, you have to go through everything you’ve so conveniently hidden in boxes and “stored” under the eaves. Invariably you learn that you own a lot of crap, and – nice though it is to purge yourself of it – you still had managed to accumulate it (crap) along the way. Then there comes the boxing, which isn’t so bad assuming that the purging was thorough. Unfortunately, this is promptly followed by the dreaded moving of the boxes into the truck …
Flashback. July 2003. Middle-of-nowhere, Illinois. 173 degrees Farenheit. 90% humidity. No breeze. On third (top) floor of the apartment building. Building sits at the bottom of the hill. Parking lot situated 200 yards away and about 15 yards worth of ascent. Stairs. Can’t use a dolly. Boxes “reclaimed” from Barnes & Noble (some of them courtesy of dumpster diving) and neighbors. 19 foot truck. HUNDREDS OF BOXES. HUNDREDS OF TRIPS.
We looked like the Beverly Hillbillies as we trekked across half the US on the way to North Carolina for graduate school. I drove the 19′ U-Haul with our Jeep Grand Cherokee on a trailer, the car stuffed to the gills with more stuff (crap), topped with a car carrier filled with more stuff (crap), topped with four ladderback chairs, with a mountain bike precariously perched at the very top. It was all lashed together with orange and black rope, so it looked classy. Amy driving her Jeep Wrangler behind the U-Haul. It’s filled with more stuff.
Flashback continued. On the interstate doing 75 mph. 70 miles into our 1000 mile trip. Amy over the walkie talkie: “The Jeep (on the trailer) is rocking. Is it supposed to do that?” Exit at next ramp. Look in disbelief at front tire straps that are no longer securing front wheels. Tighten it. Feels Secure. Decide to drive to next exit and re-check. Damn. Loose again. Find out where the f$@& the closest U-Haul store is and go 30 miles out of our way to get there. Had been rented a bogus trailer. They swap it out for us. We lose 4 hours travel time on day 1. Still in awe that the Grand Cherokee stayed on the trailer those first 70 miles.
I know that tale is relevant only in the tangential sense that it’s about moving, but I like the story and had never put it into words, and so it seemed appropriate to do so now. Still, moving a website – though less backbreaking than moving boxes – is no easy task. It is, however, for the best as www.lake-of-the-ozark.com could carry this venture no further. As you don’t get too many opportunities to put on a new face, there are other changes accompanying the name refresh, and hopefully they’ll contribute to a better user experience.
But it’s still not very much fun.