When You Try to Leave New Orleans...

I was going to write a blog last week about how I am having to say so many goodbyes and how hard it has been. But instead of writing I decided to just live my last week in New Orleans and I think that was a good choice.

To be honest, my moving day was such a mess that it hasn't set in yet, but I'm sure it will once I have a minute to catch my breath. For now, let's all laugh at the comedy of errors that was my move out.

Everything was going pretty swimmingly until Friday. Friday my mom was supposed to fly into New Orleans. Unfortunately she accidentally booked a flight for the 27th instead of the 17th and didn't realize it until she got to DFW and tried to get her boarding pass. The rest of Friday was fine, my dad and I went to the block party for Project Homecoming, we also had a final dinner at Cochon Butcher which was so yummy.

Saturday, move out day, was pretty much meant to be horrible. That's the only way I can process how all the things that could go wrong, did go wrong.

First, I locked my keys in the house. Thankfully my friend Sophie is also my neighbor and helped me get back into my place. The truck rental was available about an hour later than when I reserved it.  Next was the truly traumatic event. I am cat-sitting for my roommates beloved cat, Cricket, while she figures out her housing situation, which meant that Cricket was riding to Dallas with me.

I thought Cricket was properly locked up in her crate. I thought I could leave the front door open to start packing the uhaul. Apparently I thought wrong. Sure enough, that little houdini cat escaped her crate and, as far as I could tell, ran out the front door. Just so we are clear, Cricket has literally never been outside the apartment so you can imagine my panic when I thought she finally made a break for the great outdoors.

In addition to all of this, a huge storm rolled in about midway through the car loading. Literally it was torrentially down pouring. Apparently, he only told me this later, my dad slipped while he was loading some things in the back of the truck and fell. I tried to take some boxes out to the uhaul and got soaked to the bone.

Here I am, sitting in my barren apartment, weeping because I'm convinced I've lost the damn cat, soaking wet from the rain, convinced I will have to sleep on the floor for the night because I'm not leaving town until I track down the cat and guess who pops her head out from under the ONE piece of furniture left in the entire house. Cricket.

I won't type up all the things I said to that cat, but she certainly got an earful. As soon as the uhaul was loaded my dad left, so I got the privilege of cleaning up the apartment and compiling all the left over junk in our house on the curb before finally leaving town at 2:45. Seven and a half hours later I finally made it to Dallas. Cricket cried for the first 3 hours of the drive, but it did not rain!

So right now, I am definitely in recovery mode. And, I imagine, in the next fews the full weight of leaving will hit me, right now I just want to sleep.


Super happy about the car trip, can't you tell?

Finally all settled in at Camp Pappas


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