I have moved from one side off the island to the middle off it. What does that mean? Well for one work is now minutes away instead of more then a hour drive. And as a bonus I got a way smaller room, more bugs, more heat and less sleep.
I know where you live and I will attack you!
Lets start with the beginning, I used to live on the Banda Bau side of the island. This is the area where people usually go to enjoy beaches, nature, peace and quiet and in the weekends the giant exodus from town folk to the beaches of Banda Bau.
As you can clearly see the move was, well it was small. But here's the catch, I had to help my parents move and my sister as well and there, my friends, is where the fun starts.
I took a week off from work, thinking this would be enough, one week to help move 3 people and myself. Let us begin the saga that is the hell of moving.
As I woke up at 8 in the morning, which is 3 hours later then normal, I felt great. And that would be the last good feeling I would have for that week.
Day 1 was mostly packing of, well everything. Small glasses, big glasses, glasses that we didn't know we had. And the sorting of hundreds of small unknown things each with a wonderful story (which I will not go into at all, but they are so good, and so wonderful!).
Welcome to the first level of hell!
At the end of day one my hands smelled of boxes, my eyes where squares and my brain was set to "box".
My parents had so much stuff they decided to have a small yard sale. This actually went faster then ever thought. Within the first 2 hours almost all the large things where sold. This day felt like a rest day, but in the end it was still back to boxes.
Why are we still packing, can we start moving already. Around this time the family had 2 mental break downs already and one rage attack. But we survived, and no fatalities where reported on any news network. There was however the breaking of some glasses, and other random items. Also we have suddenly a large container to dumb trash into.
Boxes, no more boxes! We have started with moving the boxes to the new house of my parents. The new place is moments away from the old, you would think this is great right? RIGHT?. Well no, think about this. Load truck with boxes, keep loading, loading, loading, load complete! Drive to new house (Rest while in truck). Ooh no we are here (5 minute drive), unload, unload, unload. And repeat! We drove up and down like this at least 10-15 times in a day! By the end of the day you felt like a moving zombie.
And also, we did not have a normal moving truck. We had basically a large open truck and a pick up that we moved with.
Ya'll be moving?
The driving of the truck was also very much fun. We had power steering, and that was about all the comfort the truck had! It was somewhat interesting to see a truck move from left to right while the steering wheel stayed in the middle. Turning on the radio meant listening to the rasping of a insane squirrel trying to rape a nut! Now imagine the mid day sun, 30 degrees Celsius heat, and little to no wind. Now add heavy boxes, furniture and people all on the edge of snapping at any moment. In short we had so much fun that we almost killed each other.
Just for scientific purposes here's a small heat chart showing the dangers of moving.
Our Humidity is around 70% (correct me if I am wrong) and 86 Fahrenheit, this puts Curacao at the Extreme caution part. Note that these are average temperatures. And that day there was no wind, and shadow was limited. So lets just say I saw many, many strange little creatures dancing in front of me all carrying boxes. Then again it could as well have been my own family and I just was going insane.
The move has not yet ended, muscles have lost all feeling and there is no escaping it. It is time for the heavy stuff to be moved. With my arms feeling like they are made off cotton we moved fridges, washing machines, dogs, and cold cans off beers. At the end off the day I would sit and not be able to move. Also I had to help my sister out, at which time my sister left us behind and focused on her own move. leaving just me and my brother to help out my parents further. Too be honest though she did leave us her little kids to help us. Well as much as a new born and 4 year old can help (Which means efficiency went down by 30% from there on out). She did come help once in a while, also she brought us food which was most likely the best I ever had. Even if it was KFC, which does chicken wrong, so very wrong.
Looks so tasty, could just as well be breaded rocks!
We're still not done, arms feel like they are going to fall off. Legs are shorter for some reason. The ability to think in any way is gone, long, long gone.
I am box zombie, I must move!
Brain gone, can't remember what happened this day. Just boxes, many boxes!
Wait there had to be a day 8? Yes friends, I had to take an extra day off from work as there was way to much to move. I also moved myself in this day, which by far was the easiest one for some reason.
Finally moved, my body broken, my mind gone. I now am renting a room from a friend till I am able to move into my future own house.
Well friends, what did I learn. When people ask you to help them move, ask them if they planned it out some! Also, just say no too moving and yes too drugs (which has the same effect on the brain!)!
(Just so you guys know I would still help you move, maybe)