Moving KU Style

Last week was moving week for my son, Evan. He lives about 30 minutes away in a university town. Up until last week we were unfamiliar with the "rules" of moving in this college town. Apparently you move out the last day of the month but are not allowed to move into your new residence until the following day. Makes sense, the new dwellings wouldn't be available until the prior tenants had moved out. But somehow, this never occurred with Evan's sisters. They attended a different university and their living situations never required this two day move scenario.

Plans for the move began with the sudden realization that the end of the month was approaching and Evan was moving from one apartment to another. Had any plans been put in motion? No. Did Evan have any of the information we needed to proceed with the move? No. Was Evan even aware that he had to be out by 5:00 on the 31st and not able to move into the new place until the next day? No. The initial conversation, earlier in the week, went something like this:

"Hi Evan, hey do you realize you're moving this weekend?"

"Yes mother."

"So... What's the plan?"

"I don't know, I guess you and dad will bring the truck and we can move on Friday."

"Did you know your dad can't get off work on Friday?"

"Bummer."

"Let me talk to your dad and see what we can figure out."

"Okay"

All I can say is, he should thank God for his parents.

Call back (later in the day):

"Evan, we'll move you Thursday to your Aunt Becky's garage and then come back down and move you into your new place on Saturday."

"Right-on."

"Have everything packed by the time we arrive Thursday morning.

"Okay."

"Seriously."

"I will mom. Hey, there won't be room for my sofa or my recliner (both of which were garage sale items) so I think I'm just going to throw them off the roof."

"WWWhat??? No, no, don't do that. We'll see if someone in the family wants them or put them by the curb for scavengers."

"Okay." ( He and his buds threw them off the roof. However, they were still considered valuable and all his curbside crap was taken by other needy students within hours of their curbside placement.)

Thursday arrived and the move went quite smoothly. Evan was packed and really didn't have a lot of stuff. We got it all in his dad's truck, my car and Evan's car. One trip to my sisters... unload it and on to helping my niece move. Oh yeah... she didn't have any specific plans in place either and once again it was family to the rescue.

I was looking forward to seeing Evan's new place. He was pretty proud that it wasn't the dump his first place was. When I say dump I am not exaggerating. He had a 2nd floor studio apartment in an old, run down Victorian. The walls were pukey yellow, the blinds were falling down, some of the window panes were loose, the bathroom was hideous. The first night in that place a bat welcomed him home. There was mouse poop everywhere. I'm pretty sure Evan hadn't vacuumed or cleaned his bathroom in months. It was disgusting. I ended up cleaning the place in the hopes we would get the deposit back. I used a disinfectant on myself afterwards.

So... back to the new place. I guess I shouldn't have let my expectations run too high. There's a weird phenomenon that occurs when you are of a certain age. Acceptable living spaces while one is college age are considerably lower than at any other time in your life. The same space you wouldn't have wanted to grow up in or reside in as an adult is perfectly adequate during this period. It's better than adequate, it's awesome. I will admit though, there is something strangely satisfying watching them turn their noses up at our obvious alarm, only to watch post-graduation as they aim higher and higher for suitable abodes.

Despite the fact I found the apartment small, somewhat smelly and well worn, I was careful not to be too negative. I think the only thing I uttered was, "It's kind of small." To which Evan, offended, said, "You never have anything good to say about where I live." I kept my mouth shut after that.

Later in the day we paid our annual homage to Wal-Mart to stock his kitchen and purchase those essential items he trashed over the past year. Arriving back at the new place, we encountered roommate number #3's mother. Now let me give you a little background. Roommate #2 is a long time friend of Evan's, whom we'd met on several occasions. All I knew about #3 was that he was from a wealthy family and would be providing most of the furniture. Really great furniture.

#3's mom's name is Vivian and she hails from Dallas, Texas. She had been in Lawrence for four days helping her son prepare for his move. She was APPALLED with the apartment and said so in no uncertain terms. The space was too small for three boys, it had an odor, it was filthy and finally, "What was all this stuff in here?" She was referring to Evan's and #2's miscellaneous items and furniture that wouldn't fit in their bedrooms. Vivian made it clear she had a truck arriving at 4:30 with much more desirable furnishings and these things simply must go. Roommate #2's response (when Vivian was out of hearing range) was "We don't need a !*#@ interior designer." He was insulted to say the least and left in a huff.

I should add that Evan has two pets- a dog and a cat. Both of which will be living in this small, cramped space with three guys and all their stuff. Both roommates are okay with this. As a matter of fact, Roommate #2 also has a cat- so make that three pets, three guys, one small, smelly apartment. So, given this scenario you can probably imagine Vivian's reaction. It took her a minute to notice the fact that I had a puppy on a leash. Her response, "Is that your dog?" "Uh, no, it's Evan's." "Is it going to live here?" "Yep." That's when she heard the meowing coming from the kennel in Evan's hand. Let's just say she wasn't happy and she left, just walked out the front door. I guess she needed to take a few deep breaths, or something.

This was all happening about this same time that Evan's landlord arrived with lunch! Now, how often does that happen? It seems Evan's landlord owns a local Chinese restaurant and promised the boys free food when they deliver their monthly rent. Now that's a pretty good incentive at the end of the month when money is tight and the refrigerator is empty. Needless, to say the scene was pure chaos- small space, mad mom, sweaty mom, three offended young men, two cats, one dog and an Asian guy delivering fried rice.

Evan and I hightailed it up to his room. We needed some distance from this chaotic situation. Vivian's son was clearly embarrassed and not happy about mom's controlling ways. Evan and I shut the door to his room and both rolled our eyes at the same time. I suggested we just stay put until things calmed down.

As is often the case, everything worked out in the end. Boys, I have found, are relatively laid back and none of them were too up in arms over Vivian's condemnation of their space or their personal things. Later I learned the furnishings really were very nice, probably way too nice for partying college boys. I also learned she chilled out and ended up being actually pretty friendly.

In the end, I looked like the cool mom by not expressing my disdain over the boy's choices. And that is always a good thing. I'm just happy move weekend is over. Driving home we thought we should probably just go ahead and put the date on our calendar for next year. I'm pretty sure we'll be heading that way again and will find ourselves moving him into an even more awesome abode.

VSL