mad maison

In addition to packing up our apartment here in Queens and preparing to move into and fix up the new place in San Francisco, Mike and I have a cross-country trip to prepare for. Because we have two cars (and two cats), it’s much cheaper (and more adventurous) to drive one of those cars across this great country of ours.

When I embarked on a similar journey with Pops almost five years ago, we initially thought we would pick our lodgings based on when we were tired of driving. That lasted one night. Pops and I were in Ely, Nevada. We were tired, and I was on the verge of losing it. That first day, the cats spent most of it trying to jump ship and it had been a long day. Ely, Nevada, despite a plethora of motels, was not welcoming. There were no rooms at the Best Western, the Motel 6, the Super 8, the Hilton, or any of the other chain-brand motels in town. So Pops, me, and the two cats stayed at the El Rancho Motel. The only thing memorable about the El Rancho Motel is that it was the cheapest motel I’ve ever stayed in ($39 for the night). After that, Pops made sure to plot our course (one that allowed me to take in Mount Rushmore) and made reservations the rest of the way. By the time we got to the Best Western Motel in Cheyenne, Wyoming (in the pouring rain), the hotel was booked. Man, were we glad we had a reservation.

Mike and I want to enjoy our journey, but we also don’t want to linger. We’ll be leaving NY 36 hours after the movers leave (giving us a little time to complete a final cleaning pass), and we’re still hoping to beat the moving truck so we can paint the one room that is wallpaper-free before they arrive. Therefore, we’ve plotted out a very straightforward route with approximately 8 hours of driving per day. And yes, we have already made our hotel reservations.

The mad route

Before we were a twinkle in the others eye, on opposite sides of this great country of ours, Mike and I had executed many moves. So we’re aware that every move requires cardboard. Of course, in our youth, this is what the loading dock of the grocery store was for. Unfortunately, now that we’re a little more selective with the possessions we hold onto, we’re less comfortable with the concept of our books and stereo equipment sharing space with rancid vinaigrette. In addition, my type A tendencies have reached a zenith (I hope) and I can’t resist the appeal of having the ideal shaped and sized boxes for our various belongings.

Therefore, we made the conscious decision to purchase boxes. Of course, my gene pool does not allow me to pay retail for such items, and Mike, on a good day, can be described as frugal. So to the internet we went–the haven of the unfulfilled researcher. Not surprisingly, Mike and I uncovered a secret cartel of cardboard manufacturers, retailers, and wholesalers. No matter where we searched, the price of cardboard items was pretty much the same. We ended up going to a wholesaler in Long Island City. Given the amount we paid for the boxes we purchased, I was pleased to discover that we’re now also a partial owner of the cardboard wholesale business.

At least we didn’t pay retail.

more expensive by weight than gold. . .

Max the cat taking credit for the packing.

When I moved to New York in 2004, it was for a new job; which means I had about 5 minutes warning before strong men came and packed up my entire place in one afternoon.

Given that Mike and I have one month and 3 days before the movers arrive, we decided to take a slightly different approach this time. We’ve built a database that lists all of our earthly possessions–and as we pack, the database tracks exactly which box an item is packed in. This means I already know that the Joy of Cooking is in box #5. While many might consider this to be a little on the loopy side, it makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside. What makes me feel even warmer and fuzzier is the fact that Mike not only accepts these eccentricities, but he embraces them. This is especially important because, back on the left coast, things are a little more. . . organic. This isn’t surprising, since a member of my family was living in the house since 1943. And while my pops is working away at providing us a slate clean of extra possessions and knick knacks–there’s only so much one man (with my brother’s help) can do in one month and 3 days. Therefore, I suspect we won’t be unpacking every box in those first weeks/months after we arrive. So knowing what’s in box #5 will come in handy when I’m dying to make my killer mac & cheese recipe, or it’s time to roast a chicken (because no matter how many chickens I roast, I like having the book open as a reminder of exactly what temperature the bird should be if I want juicy breast meat). Whether or not it really adds value that I also have a picture in the database of the Joy of Cooking and the other books it shared shelf space with here in Queens will be known only by Mike & Denise.

the infamous database