And right as we hit 66 East, it started to rain. And RAIN. Steven called me on my cell phone as he drove behind me. His voice was frantic and urgent.
"The wipers! They... they won't wipe fast enough! I can't see anything!" He hung up before I could even offer any comfort. Apparently he couldn't afford to let go of the wheel long enough to hold the phone to his ear.
Somehow, by the grace of God, we pulled into the tiny crowded parking lot, right in front of our first little one-bedroom, 400 sq. ft. apartment. Steven's first words, upon jumping down from the truck in the pouring rain? Not we made it, not hi honey, but instead:
"I am never. Never. NEVER DRIVING ONE OF THOSE TRUCKS EVER AGAIN."
I am here to report that this past Saturday, at 9 AM, our dear Steven had to eat his words.
(I made sure to document the entire experience, of course.)
We picked up the U-Haul and headed to our planned destination. Per our obscure Mapquest directions, we got a nice little tour of D.C. on the way there. Here, you can see we drove through the parking lot of the Pentagon... (who knew it had a daycare on site?!)
And then we saw the Washington Monument (through a dirty windshield) ...
And then we arrived at our destination: a townhouse in Alexandria that had listed a WHITE CIRCLE TABLE for sale! (A hearty thank you to the blogless friend of my sister-in-law, Jenny, who recommended perusing Craigslist for a white circle table. Steven found a perfect one, and we snatched it right up.)
And then we had to figure out how to get it home. On Friday afternoon, we measured my trunk, glanced disdainfully at Steven's two-seater (lovely car but useless for hauling furniture around), and rang up U-Haul.
"Hello, could we rent a Cargo Van?"
Almost immediately after leaving the seller's house, I heard a terrible crunching sound next to us, and turned my head just in time to see the end of a car accident. (Nobody hit our Cargo Van, don't worry. Although we did get the insurance...) Not wanting to stop up traffic, we handed them our name and number and zipped on out of there (as fast as a Cargo Van can zip, anyway). (They have not called me yet. I assume they worked it out amongst themselves.)
I spent the rest of the drive home fretting that the table might not fit in our kitchen. But all of my worrying was for naught. It fits beautifully.
I love it muchly, and I am now
(I will eventually wean him from the computer as well. Give him time. It is almost baseball season, after all. A man's got to keep up with the latest trades, acquisitions, and Twins commercials, right? ("Hi, we're here to paint the corners...")