stuff

October 8, 2009, Thursday. At last we heard from our moving truck! It’d been in Grand Junction, Colorado, for the night and planned to be at our self-storage place around midday. The plan was for H to meet the truck, and the Atlas Moving movers there, and then I’d get there as soon as I could.

I had something else to do, you see: I had an interview with a job placement firm! I had had the foresight to bring with me one skirt, one interview-caliber (and no ironing needed) blouse and a pair of heels – the recruiter was just going to have to deal with no stockings because, at that moment, they were all on a semi-truck somewhere between Grand Junction and SLC. The interview went fine, even the typing test (which was tough because it’d been DAYS since I’d been on a computer keyboard) and I actually got a phone call later Thursday afternoon about a legal assistant position for which the recruiter wanted to submit me. (We’ll see: the firm does mostly litigation – which I am not particularly inclined to do.) I’d like to not have to take the first offer I get but I’m not sure how choosy I can be in today’s economy.


After the interview I changed out of my skirt/blouse/heels and into my jeans/t-shirt/hiking boots right there in the parking lot. Classy, huh? I drove up to the self-storage place and met all the movers. Everyone is SO friendly here, regardless of how many teeth they have. (Actually, because of the dearth of teeth, I felt like I was right back in Maine.) It took the guys about two and a half hours to unload our stuff from the truck into the two storage bays and as they took stuff off, H and I put a bunch of it into our own vehicles. We took that first load to the apartment and then went back for a second trip, finally installing our bed, two leather chairs, the dining room table and chairs, all our clothing and enough kitchen stuff to last us six months. Note: no more than two people at a time can come stay with us because we only have table settings for four.

We were exhausted after all this (need I remind you about the third floor walk-up?) and even though I had promised H that we would stop eating out and start saving money by cooking at home, we decided that we were SO exhausted that it would be better to go to a nearby local taco joint rather than unpack the kitchen stuff, and then go grocery shopping, and then cook.

So we hit the Lone Star Taqueria (2265 East Fort Union Blvd., SLC). It’s awesome: wicked casual (you order at the counter and they bring the food to you) with both indoor and outdoor seating, bright colors, Mexican music blaring, cold bottled beer in a tub of ice. The joint was jumping, so packed with people that a young couple took pity on us and asked if we’d like to share their table. I had a huge, tender and perfectly spicy pork chile verde burrito, which put the Hopper’s version to shame, and H had a carne asada burrito. Next time I’m totally getting the handmade tamales – you can’t get real tamales anywhere in Maine. The couple we were sitting next to gave us some great insider information on food (for different Mexican, on the other side of town and with a mole to die for, the Red Iguana – we’ll get there soon, RPE&B, promise, I’ve saved out the $), nearby bike shops (Canyon Bicycles and Fishers) and skiing (their regular mountain is Sundance, down Provo way, with $45 weekend tickets and NO lift lines).

And how exciting is this: sleeping in our bed with sheets and pillows, and not on the floor in sleeping bags. Outstanding.