Break My Stuff, Before You Go-Go

Our household goods arrived yesterday, which sounds like it could be a good thing. It was getting tiresome, sitting on a mattress on the floor, to watch tv. And my washer and dryer are back, so laundry can happen in-house again, which (believe me) is exciting.

Of course now there are so many boxes, we can barely navigate our way through this house, which is feeling smaller by the second. I was getting sassier and sassier, as Justin kept reminding me, “you keep saying it’ll be fine; it’s only 11 months.”

And then, upon finding the 3rd broken item, I lost my cool. And had an epic blowup tantrum.

“YEAH! Join the army! We’ll take care of you. Give us 20 years and we’ll force you to move and break all your shit! You should be grateful that we’ve only broken half your shit! Maybe next time we can break more!!!!!!”

Justin calmly stood there and didn’t once tell me to calm down or stop swearing, which I appreciate. When I was finished freaking out, he said, “but nothing in the kitchen was broken, right??”

I guess some packing person needs a gold star for successfully packing plates without breaking any. Heck, they stole (or lost) most of our silverware during the last move, so Justin didn’t even trust them with our spoons this time. He was taking no chances.

Honestly, every move we trust them with less and less…which is kind of how we ended up in the “too much stuff and not enough uhaul” situation.

When I told him he needs to find the brackets for the kids’ shelves, so I can bolt them to the walls, he whispered, “but you didn’t fill out the paperwork to drill holes in the walls yet.” We’re paying ____ a month for a shoebox! I don’t give a shit about their stupid paperwork! “Actually Sammi, it’s [more].”

You aren’t helping!!!!!!

Justin also informed me that there is a spouse briefing at the exact same time as the open house for the middle school, which seems like terrible planning on this stupid, stupid school’s part (it might not be stupid. I might just be feeling angsty still). So guess who won’t be going to the spouse brief. This is how I get a reputation for being “standoffish.” I guess today won’t be the day I learn how to properly curtsy to officer wives, or pour tea and serve crumpets. Or whatever they expect me to do. Guess what—I’m not in the army, ya bunch of crusty butts.

:::Deep breath:::

So, this morning I am quietly sitting in my “living room” that barely fits my couch, drinking my coffee and listening to the traffic noises from the highway outside our “house.” I’m once again trying to channel Bob Marley, convincing myself that “every little thing, is gonna be alright.” And maybe we’re done finding broken items. And maybe all we have to do at this point is figure out how to get everything to fit.

Things Gone Wrong: Let Me Count the Ways…

Ok, so the drive here wasn’t the best. But surely things can only get better, right??

Wrong.

1am Sunday night, Justin texts me from his hotel room: housing needs shot records, rabies certificates, photos, and also they need to be registered—where exactly, nobody knows. Monday morning I was calling the vet asking for everything we needed, and thankfully our Georgia vet was amazing. Justin said “tasteful photos, please.” So…like…

Next: The Unpacking of the Truck. All was well until I said, “let’s put the gym rack in the middle of the garage for now.” Then we pulled out the 5’ tall paper cupboard. I then stepped backward, tripped over the rack, fell on my whole ass, and the paper cupboard landed on top of me…

…is what Justin wants you to think happened. I’m pretty sure he used some kind of mind powers to move the rack into my way, and then he threw the cabinet on top of me.

But also, as I lay there, laughing and dying, he did quickly pull the cabinet off me. While I whined, “no please. Just put it back and let me die here.” He wouldn’t—probably because he still needed my help getting the last few items out of the truck. I have bruises galore to prove that moving is not for the faint of heart.

We’re in lower enlisted housing, which is not the end of the world, apart from the fact that we pay a lot more “rent” than our neighbors, and we’re a good 10-20 years older than everyone living here. But, it’s all they had available, and it’s only a year. The house has lots of storage space, but we could do with a bit more living space. Again, it is what it is, and it’s only a year.

We went from a 3/4 acre back yard, to this. The dogs looked at me like it was obviously some kind of joke.

From there, we returned the truck, which seemed like a way bigger event than it needed to be.

Quick trip to grab items we needed, like trash cans, towels, soap—items that got tossed in The Purge.

Monday afternoon we went to the Commissary. It was meant to be a quick trip, for “just the essentials.” $300 and 60 varieties of beverages later, we determined that it is not smart to shop thirsty and sleep-drunk.

Tuesday we ran to the post office to pick up our mail key. The postman informed us that the previous tenants didn’t return the mail keys, so we would have to wait 7-10 business days for them to come out and re-key the box. Let’s go ahead and add it to the “things going well” list.

I figured out where to register the dogs, and that was relatively painless. Although, while waiting I listened to a Baby Soldier tell and Old Crusty Soldier that he and his wife keep their dogs locked up outside all day. OCS: “you realize we are in Texas and it is way to hot for that.” BS: “nah, they love it. Even my husky! Besides, we have great AC, so they can cook off when they come in.” FYI: it’s gotten up over 110° nearly every day we’ve been here.

We went to multiple stores, in search of bar stools, since we have no furniture until the 26th and have been using a mattress as a bed/couch/lounge area. No luck finding stools, so we decided to go to Walmart to pick up a sunshade for my van (because, over 110°), and possibly stools?

We settled on folding chairs and a table, and went to grab a sunshade……and the power went out. We were now in the back corner of a very dark and terrifying Walmart.

Honestly, there comes a point where you just start laughing at all of this. How in the world can this much keep going wrong? This is some kind of joke, correct??

Wednesday we looked up the address for the on-post laundromat, since we hadn’t done laundry in over a week. After driving around for 30 minutes, We found the correct building, only to find it was abandoned. I called the housing office to ask for the correct location: “oh, there hasn’t been a laundromat on post in years.” Then why is it listed in the directory!?!?

Thursday, Justin said, “how long is it supposed to take for the freezer to make ice?” I told him maybe we were using it faster than it was being made, but I did point out that the cabinet next to the fridge was extremely water damaged. By yesterday morning it was obvious that the ice maker was sounding like it was filling, but no ice was being made. Maintenance was called, and thankfully showed up within a few hours. The hose had come undone, the pipe had frozen, and now all should be well in the world.

Perhaps things are turning around, but honestly, Justin and I are very much laughing at how comical everything has become. Every time something goes sideways, Justin says, “do we put this on the list??”

Absolutely.

So far, this move easily ranks number one on the Worst Moves Ever list. If it continues like this, I can only assume the movers will arrive Tuesday with a truck full of broken everything.

BUT…I’m staying positive. It’s fine. We’re fine. It’s only a year. And it’s adding a whole new level of comedy to our lives. And, there was a lizard in our yard Wednesday. So maybe my Alabama Amphibians sent word that I’m cool.

Gather round, so he can tell you all about how awesome I am…in the amphibian community.

Stop This Car, I Want to Get Out

*disclaimer: I wrote this days ago. I still don’t know what day it is, but we didn’t have internet for many of the days, and this dang this has not wanted to publish. I will add it to the list of “things going wrong” next go ‘round.


It has been a brutal…number of days. I honestly don’t even know what day it is anymore. I believe this mad rush of insanity started 48 hours ago, but then we jumped time zones, and at this point I don’t even know which way is up.

I guess it really got intense Saturday morning, when Justin and I got up early for our last push of cleaning, and truck packing. I would like to state for the record that I am never around for this. I believe I assisted way back in 2006 when we moved out of our first apartment, but back then we were 2 people and a pug, not 4 people 2 boxers and 3 cats. And a world of stuff.

By 10 it was obvious that we would not be on the road by noon. By noon it looked as though we would never get out of there.

Fun fact: when Justin and I put leftovers away and choose a container that’s to small, we refer to it as “pulling a Donna,” because my mom is notorious for misjudging the food to container ratio……

……Justin and I totally Donna’d the moving truck. Big time. Keep in mind, the army contracted movers took MOST of our stuff on Monday. We were just left with items we didn’t trust them with, items they wouldn’t move, items we couldn’t be without for days at a time, and whatever didn’t get packed or we needed for cleaning. It was a whole lot more than would fit in our baby 10’ uhaul.

Also, keep in mind that Tuesday, uhaul reached out to Justin to say they didn’t have a 10’ truck available, so we would be getting a 26’; Justin called them and we drove an hour away just to get the 10’. Epic mistake.

Items left behind that we didn’t intend on leaving behind: 2 mattresses, vacuum, steam cleaner, shopvac, pressure washer, camp chairs, beach chairs…and all kinds of other stuff. Nothing like a PCS to teach you a lesson in impermanence.

At one point we lost Captain SparklePaws. After a whole week of keeping the cats inside, we suddenly couldn’t find him. Room by room, we searched. Xander even looked in the toilet. Justin went outside and looked. I was sure he must have snuck out, even though I had no idea how. We did one more search of our nearly empty house. I asked “are you sure he isn’t in the tub? Behind the toilet? In a cabinet?” And Xander shouted, “he’s behind the trash can in the bathroom!!!” Dude, you looked in the toilet, but didn’t think yo look next to it?!

Captain hiding somewhere at some point…not actually behind the trash can on moving day.

Finally, at 4:30, we were all packed and on the road.

About an hour into the adventure, a car pulled halfway onto the interstate, and stopped. Then it drove across the lanes and bounced into the guardrail. I passed him; he started driving again. He tried to pass me in the left lane, and then he was in my lane! I moved onto the shoulder and braced for impact. He missed me, and swerved hard into the median. At that point I realized he was very obviously drunk, so I slowed down and waited for him to crash. Instead, he drove for 2 miles like vehicular bumper bowling. He bounced from shoulder to median, and back again. Cars would pass me, thinking I was just being a jerk driving 30 in a 55. Then they would see that lunatic and join me in crawling along the road. Finally he careened into a ditch, which I thought would be the end. But that civic was a beast, and he jumped it out of the ditch and turned into a gas station.

It’s these fun moments that make every drive a new adventure.
After only 5 hours of actual driving, Justin and I were both struggling, so we found the shadiest motel we could locate, and spent the night. 

Sunday morning we were back at it. Justin and I were crushing it, and making awesome time. And then shea got sick. And was throwing up off and on for the last 10 hours we were in the car.

Also, Emma is neurotic and has a hard time peeing on a leash. Because….I don’t know, she’s got a lot of anxiety. Finally, after holding it for 24 hours, she peed at a rest stop. Rufus, in his slow southern goofball way, sniffed the stream, accidentally stuck his nose in it (at least I’m telling him it was an accident), then he hiked up his leg and peed on her.

Also also, throughout all of this, our poor cats had to be in crates, rather than free-range. Mostly because Nebula likes to reenact the scene from Braveheart. She shouts, “FREEDOM!!!” and sprints out any door that opens. I was not about to play “find the 8lb demon” in any state we passed through.

Everyone was miserable.
Maybe not Rufus. He got to sit on Emma for 30 hours.


It was truly the drive that never ended.

Until it did, and we were in a city.

So, about 2 months before Justin came home from Korea, he said to me, “I don’t want to worry you. But the first time I flew into El Paso, I fell asleep on the plane, and when I woke up I thought something went wrong because it looked like Baghdad.” Well, I don’t know what Baghdad looks like. A war zone? I wasn’t expecting a huge ass city.

It’s fine. It’s whatever. It’s just a year. We’ll be fine. Right?? Right?!?!

Moving Right Along

I don’t like moving. I know there are some military spouses that get “the itch,” but the only itch I have are my red ant bites.

Let the record show that I am not usually around for the move-out portion of any relocation. I typically pack up and run away. But no matter how many times I said, “Justin! I have grown accustomed to a certain lifestyle that requires I not participate in this,” he has only rolled his eyes and told me I’m spoiled.

It’s true. I won’t deny it.

Yesterday, after a thoroughly restless night of making and checking off lists in my head, I took my van in for an oil change. After signing the paperwork, I grabbed my keys and the dealership’s copies and headed out. “Ma’am. Those are my copies.” Of course they are—why would you make me sign papers meant for me.

From there, I headed to my next stop on my whirlwind tour of errands: the UPS store. I parked and looked at the store front, thinking, “why would the UPS store have tv moving boxes? Why did Justin want me to stop here??”

Oh yeah, just kidding—I was supposed to go to the UHaul store. So, off I went, to my actual stop on my tour.

While purchasing the magical tv box of transportation, I got a text from Justin, about an issue with our truck reservation. I paid for my box, thanked the lady, and walked out….all the way across a giant parking lot to my van…where I realized—I didn’t actually take the box. I turned around and the tiny cashier was chasing after me with the massive tv box. I have Moving Mush Brain.

Also, I’m beginning to wonder how Justin always does this by himself. I’m supposed to be the one with anxiety who freaks out about these things, but this man is in full panic mode.

Also also, I miss Bruce. So no less than 10 times a day I ask, “we made the right decision, didn’t we?” “Yes Sammi. He couldn’t breathe. You know that.” I do. But he’s been my travel companion on these adventures since just before I turned 24. He’s always been my copilot, and now the front seat will be empty (because I still won’t let my kids sit in the front seat, and Rufus & Emma are way too squirrelly to be up front. I don’t need a 75lb dog trying to sit in my lap while I drive).

See how well Rufus fits in my lap? I could totally drive like this…….

This is the point in moving where I just want to be driving to my next location. Let’s get this party started! 20 hours to El Paso, baby….except….we still have 3 more days of “prep.” I’m accustomed to a certain lifestyle! One that requires I not deal with any of this.

See?? Spoiled.

Little Man Bruce Wayne Steeves: February 8, 2006 – July 7, 2022

Bruce passed away peacefully Friday, July 7, in the arms of his human mom. He is survived by his people, Sammi, Justin, Shea, and Xander; 2 dog siblings, Emma and Rufus, and 3 cat siblings, Jessie, Captain Sparklepaws, and Nebula.

Bruce was born a country boy in rural Georgia, just east of Eufaula, AL. Adopted at the wee age of 8 weeks, Bruce spent the next 16 years traveling the world. By his first birthday, he called Germany home, where he went on many adventures. He traveled the streets of Trier, Idar-Oberstein, and Baumholder.

Bruce spent 2008 getting chubby with Sammi, while Justin was deployed to Iraq. When his first human sibling arrived, Bruce was less than impressed, although he soon realized that with tiny humans come ample snacks.

Bruce spent 2009 in New York, at Grandma Donna’s house, where he was put on a strict diet and quickly lost the extra weight he gained during Sam’s pregnancy.

2010 brought a move back to Georgia, and a second tiny human, who was always willing to trade goldfish for dog food. Bruce was happy to take any snacks given to him, whether he planned on eating them or not. Many a pizza crust and pancake were not-so-secretly hidden in the couch cushions.

In 2012 Bruce moved with his family to Kentucky, where he lived a more carefree life. He enjoyed sleeping in until noon, and being used as a foot rest by tiny humans.

By 2018, Bruce entered into retirement in Alabama. His playing years were behind him, but he still enjoyed his daily meanders in the yard. When he celebrated his 16th birthday in February, it was apparent that his dreams of driving a hot pink jeep was simply unrealistic, as his sight was mostly gone.

Bruce enjoyed 16 years of warm laps, tiny human love and manhandling, and an unbelievable amount of popcorn, cheese, and cauliflower. He will be greatly missed by everyone who knew him, but he lived an absolutely incredible life.