Resistance to Change

Happy Birthday to Grandma!

This week I’m moving to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania—home of the Steelers (not like I care), also called The Keystone State (much more attractive). Throughout the process, I’m discovering that many things in life—not just people!—are resistant to change. For example:

Rented Trailers. Precisely one hour into the eight hour drive, the rental trailer blew a tire. My dad coasted off the highway (and maybe drove on the rim a bit) and into a waiting parking lot. Instead of being a good flat tire and coming off easily, the flat tire resisted with rust. As my dad and his lug-wrench tried to tempt the lugs off the studs, the studs came off too. Four of five studs came off with the lugs. There was now no way to change the tire without finding new studs for lugs. So we spent the rest of the afternoon tracking down parts for stubborn rusted tires. Lucky thing my dad’s middle name is McGuyver. (Hint: do not tighten lugs too much and let them rust.)

Coconut the Cat. My beautiful white companion has often been lugged around the state of Michigan for two hour trips to the cottage. She protests being confined in a cage in a moving environment for awhile, then gives it up for the rest of the trip. For an eight hour trip that quickly becomes flat-tire ambiguously longer (a hotel room longer!), she nearly chewed through her cage. Each new place we enter she scours, then she hides, and once we pay attention to her again, she creeps out of hiding. As I think what I would feel like, trapped in a cage with just enough room to turn around, I realize that I was trapped in a cage with the same amount of room: my car. It’s just that I knew what was happening, and she did not. Poor thing. (Hint: drug the cat next time!)

Carpet Staples. Once we arrived at my new flat, we realized a shockingly disappointing thing: the carpets were filthy. The landlords had said that they would be steam-cleaned before we arrived, but they weren’t. And even if they were, we weren’t sure that they would be healthy ever again. Since my dad is McGuyver, we decided to tear up the carpet and refinish the hardwood floor underneath. Once dad had pulled up the carpet and thrown it over the balcony, I received the job of pulling up the staples. Using pliers (which soon made my hand throb), a flathead screwdriver and a hammer (which were LOUD), I managed to do the job in about four hours. Some crazy person had gone staple-gun happy while installing that ugly stuff. (Hint: use work gloves.)

Right now I’m sitting at a coffee shop two blocks away from the flat, enjoying a smoothie and classical music. My mom and I are escaping the noise of the sanding machine (my apologies to the other tenants of the apartment building!). I’ve already applied to several tutoring postings on craigslist, and we’ll see where all life takes me in the next month. Tonight’s entertainment: varnishing the floor. Maybe tomorrow we can move in!