9to5to9 blog: Planning goes out the window while moving

(MCT) — Contrary to what Dad thinks, "I told you so" are not really my favorite words. I'd be thrilled if I never said them again.

But when the moving company called last week to estimate how long it would take to pack up our house, I knew there was an "I told you so" in my future.

It's because I'm a mover's worst nightmare. I can cram more crap into nooks and crannies of a house than anyone thinks is possible. Really, they don't train for scenarios as bad as me at Moving University.

So Friday, I kept giving the guy on the phone an estimate of how many boxes it would take and he kept saying "Are you sure?"

I'm sure he got off the phone, muttered "crazy lady" and cut the estimate in half.

They sent two packers, and it took one of them four hours to pack just the kitchen. They have to finish tomorrow as the loading crew loads, the Salvation Army waits in line to haul off baby gear and a friend who's inheriting our fridge taps her foot impatiently.

I told you so.

Such has been our roller-coaster life lately. Luckily, there have as many peaks as valleys, but it's all getting wearing. I could go for a nice vacation on a dull, boring even keel.

We find out Dad's deployment might be delayed due to dental work. He needs wisdom teeth removed, and he's appointment's not until September so far. Am I a bad person to be happy someone's going to be in pain?

Just as I hyperextend my elbow patting myself on the back after finding Big Guy's school-supply list online, Dad finds out that school starts Thursday — the day we'd originally planned to arrive at Fort Irwin — instead of September like I thought. It was my fault — we looked at so many school districts I got confused about which one starts when and never got around to double-checking. It'll be more fodder for his shrink. "And then there was that year Mom made me miss the first day of first grade …"

The movers say they'll guarantee delivery by Monday — that's way less than the month I've suffered through before. But now I have to worry that they'll get there too soon. We won't get the keys to the house before Friday afternoon.

An older and imminently wiser friend points out, none of this will matter one whit a hundred years from now. She's right, of course. It's hard to remember that, though, when you have whiplash from all the slow climbs and stomach-dropping descents.