perfidy

Casa de Buckethead, our place in the suburbs, has now been replaced by Festung Buckethead, our fastness in the wilderness of Warren County, Virginia. I would like to make special mention of those brave, nay, foolhardy souls who assisted us in loading, carting and unloading our myriad possessions. Jeff, who despite years of captaining a chair for NASA, showed commendable fortitude in the face of very large boxes. Mike, who maintained a cheerful good humor even when forbidden to play any instruments. Mike’s two sons Paul and Andrew, who, for teenagers, were able to focus on the task at hand and not ask for beer or electronics more than every ten minutes or so. Christian, who, having known me for less than a year, still pitched in with admirable vigor. Marcy, who despite being the littlest helper, hardly complained at all. And Gavin, who’s skills at driving a large U-Haul truck left me amazed, but only after being paralyzed with fear. And of course, Mrs. Buckethead, who did most of the packing, and will be doing most of the unpacking. Thanks also to mom, who kept the junior-grade Bucketheads occupied and largely out of the way.

I would also like to express my admiration for the wisdom of all those who did not help us move, even while begrudging their lack of generosity of spirit.

All things considered, the move went surprisingly well. The missus and I had actually packed damn near everything before moving day. I have found from painful personal experience that failure to pack is a serious impediment to efficient moving.

The new place is out in the back of beyond, relative to our nation’s capitol and my workplace. It’s even on a dirt road. And the last turn to get down to our driveway is a little tight. I thought that, with some careful driving, I could get the 26’ U-Haul down the drive. But I decided to consult with Gavin, to see if he had any useful suggestions. He merely replied, “Mind if I drive?” In the face of that sort of certainty, I had no real objection. Gavin hopped in the truck, and without hesitation, barreled down the driveway. He turned left, into the little turnaround, and then proceeded to back the truck around the hairpin turn.

At that moment, Christian had asked for a cigarette. I was unable to comply, because just then Gavin touched the edge of the driveway with the left rear tire and tipped the top-heavy truck noticeably out of vertical. Still he didn’t hesitate, and in seconds had the truck down by the house. Chris asked again for a cigarette. I handed one over, and said, “Sorry, I was paralyzed by fear.”

Gavin said that he was trying to avoid the trees. But then, he also said later that evening that, “If I can’t see it, it doesn’t exist,” so I can only conclude that he was just having fun at my expense.

Other memorable events: Jeff breaking my rake while, to all appearances, trying to use it like a snowboard. Me, twisting my ankle on perfectly level ground. Everyone asking repeatedly, “You say you purged your books before you packed?” after seeing the 60+ boxes. Hey, at least I had the foresight to pack them in little boxes…

Thanks again to everyone who helped, you have dibs on all the goodies when we have the housewarming party.

[wik] A special tiny thanks to GL for coming up with a new name for the Buckethead residence.