More moving mayhem…

One step forward and two steps back is the typical quote we all hear, as we can see the examples every day in our lives. So far, I confirmed this statement in the beginning half of my turbulent transition, where things continued to move sporadically, good and bad. My anxiety level was high, and my body began physical actions detrimental to my daily living in retribution for this. Some things were going well, and others were busy going poorly and off the rails, causing more trepidation deep within my being.

Tackling this endeavor of moving one thousand miles is a massive undertaking, especially for only one individual. We have all heard that two heads are better than one, and when moving six states away, it would help to have the assistance of a second brain. I know I require preparation to move my belongings to Florida, meaning I will need to ask for help to pack, although this will be challenging. I thought I made many friends at church, where I attended for nearly ten years before the pandemic. However, they are apparently not the “helping friends pack” type of friends, but more fair-weather “just say hi” friends. This situation meant I needed to hire a company to pack, ship, and deliver everything I owned to Florida.

I went online and found the first company to give me an estimate for moving my belongings from Ohio to Florida. When the woman walked around my house and saw my stuff, she scribbled things down on her notepad and gave me an estimate of $12,000. Keep in mind most of my furniture is nearly 30 years old and not worth $1200, let alone twelve thousand, so I kept a poker face and said I see. She explained the cost of fuel, labor, and even cardboard had gone up, which caused such a premium price proclamation. When she saw the wheels turning in my head, she quickly stated I should not leave my furniture because there were delays in furniture store deliveries. I know that is malarkey, I thought to myself. Although I later called her back and left a voicemail asking what the cost would be without moving my furniture, she never called me back, which I took as a red flag.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I was still waiting for the Post Office to deliver the mail to the Moon. That is the only reason it was taking so long for my mortgage company to pay my taxes, something they should have done in the first place. Every time I called my lender to see if they mailed the check, it was always in process. They move like a snail late for a hot date. Every time I called, they said they were working on it, yet nothing was happening.

My HELOC was waiting for a company that moves slower than a herd of turtles stampeding through Peanut butter. This situation forced me to consider other options as the work needed completion soon, and only money would pay the bills. Unfortunately, the more I contemplated my alternatives, I only came up with one, which was to fracture my financial future by dipping into my 401k. I spoke to my financial advisor and withdrew a sum of money from my retirement account that would help initially. I thought it would get things started until my HELOC came through. However, I did not realize the games of life would continue.

A few days later, I received word that they had paid my taxes and were ready for the signing of my paperwork. Fortunately, this loan was just in time for the second half of the money needed to complete the work. Sadly, we could not set up the signing for another week, making the HELOC bank the new choke point for the work. At the signing, one week later, they cemented the title “choke point” entirely as they told me the checks for the HELOC would take up to a month to arrive at my house. Once again, various work concluded, and bills needed payment, which, sadly, none would be from my HELOC. So I had to dip deeply into my 401k for another painful chunk of change as this was extremely ugly for my retirement.

Everything is causing havoc, as the lousy timing and the unexpected extra requirements are getting quite old. Then to top it all off, I found out that Piada Italian Street Food does not exist in Florida, making me wonder if that is enough of a reason not to move to Florida? Although I realized that staying in Ohio is a bad idea because now, deep in the game, my mom would go to prison as she would quite literally kill me. I know moving to Florida will be a good thing when I get there, but the stress is brutally beating my body to the Core.

Just hang on as the completion is near. Or is it?