Last weekend we moved Nick to Happy Valley. We’ve been waiting for this occasion for the past year … to finally see each other on a regular basis!
We tossed his broken picture frames and neuroscience notes and mail from 2006. And laughed at his tweed hand-me-down sports coat with shoulder pads and pleated khakis that have been sitting in the closet since high school. I didn’t question his collection of toolboxes if he promised not to poke fun at my own fetishes — shoes and cookbooks to name two. He slipped his German birth certificate into a safe spot, and I neatly arranged his polos and belts. And our tank of a rental vehicle — a Dodge Ram 1500 — transported everything from a grill and a coffee table to a toaster oven and a barometer.
The rain held out while we distributed loads around Hershey and traveled to State College and back, but the storm clouds opened up during our first trip to Dover. Nick had secured the luggage in the bed of the truck with tarps and rope, but the wind caught hold of a loose end and raised the blue plastic like a sail somewhere along I-83. It took three stops in a matter of eight miles to come up with a solution. Nick, a.k.a. MacGyver, looped the tarps together with a metal key ring. Genius! And it held tight until we reached Andover Drive.
So despite the heavy lifting in the humidity, 500+ miles of driving, Nick’s non-stop questions: “where’s my cell phone?” “do you have my wallet?” “can you help me find my keys?,” and my task delegation: “organize your desk drawers” “bring down the boxes from the attic” “you don’t need that … throw it out,” we didn’t pull out each other’s hair. That’s true love.
Now let’s see if we can survive the temporary disarray that is our apartment … (so far wine seems to help)