RP: Moving

As one of my friends had put it, after this experience, you will be wondering if there is life beyond packing, labelling and moving boxes from house to house (add non-stop sneezing to the list too, for me). Well, good news is, there is and there always will be. However, life needs not any of my long drawn elaborations for you to understand them, as you are probably undergoing the same harrowing process called living, as I am, with its many twists and quirks, ups and downs, surprises and what-nots.

The moving itself has finally been completed yesterday, with our ‘official’ moving-in ceremony (somewhat officiated by the putting of the red cloth, the spraying of some assorted beans in the corners of the house, the filling of the rice pot and the meal the entire family has together for the first time in the new house) and the shifting of all our boxes and crates and whatever-else-we-need-to-move to the new house in Cheras. My old house is rather small, but I guess, the thing about my family is, that we tend to accumulate a lot of things as we go by. And lo and behold, the house (that we called small) housed enough items to fill up two five ton lorries to the brim and still have some extra items (mainly some of my mother’s plants and flowerpots) that did not fit into the lorries!

Well, I could at least rest assured that not so much unpacking needs to be done later, since one (and a quarter) of the lorry-load is going to charity, for good reason too. Most of our furniture, clothes and books are very much in working condition, just that we did not plan on bringing it along with us, and the other two options of leaving it behind for the new tenant or throwing them out did not appeal much to any of us. Why not leave it for the new tenant? Well, he tried to charge us RM200 (and still is) for every day we stay at the house beyond the date HE SET for us to move out. Really friendly guy…

Luckily, with a big rush, we managed to beat the stupid deadline with two days to spare. But, fate had yet another nasty little surprise in store for us. On our way to the new house, my father’s car tire got a nasty puncture, courtesy of a stray screw. Perhaps we had a divine helping hand throughout this journey, we brought along the spare tire (which had been out of commision for some time and stored in my old house to make more space to pack boxes for moving) and the moving people helped us pump the spare tire at a nearby petrol station (it was out of air) immediately. Finally, all of our crates have been moved, like that, to our new house, but I guess this is just the beginning of the end, for we still have to clean the new house (dirty from renovation), buy new furniture and unpack our things. Sigh…

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