The house mostly thoroughly – by which I mean, the agent/landlord had organised someone to come and do the cleaning they told us had already been done, but only organised them to thoroughly clean some areas, not all – done, we started to move a couple of boxes in on Sunday afternoon.
Grumpy Pants, I believe, has watched too much McGyver and is intent on moving the household contents of a family of five using only a 4×6 83 year old trailer, a plastic bag, two rubber bands and a paperclip.
Those last couple of items he refuses to use. He is going to do it with three bits of rope of varying sizes and age.
He’s way more fucking awesome than McGyver.
I’m out in the morning, so he bundles up the kids and kicks of the process of emptying the storage container we’ve had on hire for the last ten months or so.
I join in when I am available. Approximately six, or quite possibly 8 trailer loads later, storage is empty and there are boxes stacked against a wall, furniture randomly placed around the house and all toys unpacked and scattered around every available floor space.