What to Do With Stuff: Part Two
I put out queries to several movers about moving Stuff from Melbourne to Adelaide. A cheery woman from Instamovers rang me back. She didn't think any of it would be a problem, in fact she had a truck going that way on Monday and all my Stuff could hitch a lift. She quoted a price which, while more expensive than that offered by PEA Logistics, was quite reasonable should it actually come with action attached. She was so efficient in fact that by the time I had finished talking to her the receipt for my deposit had already popped up in my email.
I warned my home owner that a moving van would arrive to collect my Stuff. "If the neighbours contact you about it," I said, "Don't worry. I'm just getting rid of my Stuff. I'm not the slightest bit interested in any of yours." She seemed OK with that but then again she was on her way to the airport and had entrusted me with her precious fur babies so she probably didn't have the option to fire me anyway as that would have left the fur babies stranded.
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| Speaking of fur babies... |
Traumatised by the PEA Logistics saga, I bombarded Instamovers with emails and SMS, seeking reassurance that they would provide carbon-based life forms on my doorstep to take my Stuff at the agreed time.
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| And what do you know? They did. |
Bless their little cotton socks, they updated me all the way until they arrived at Roger's doorstop and offloaded the exact number of items in the exact same condition in which they had taken them 24 hours ago. My goodness things happen easy when people know what they're doing.
The biggest little fur baby and I walked up to Caulfield Park to celebrate no longer worrying about Stuff. It was a nice walk. The sun shone and new leaves sparkled on every tree. Out on the sporting ovals tides of exuberant unleashed dogs ebbed back and forth while their owners took turns drinking coffee and energetically throwing balls.
Of course I still had to figure out what to do with all the Stuff, but until then I was diligently practicing the philosophy of not thinking about anything that was now safely tucked away in a shed and out of sight.
I was happy.



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