(Empty) Home Sweet Home
Jean Jacket: Thrifted Levi’s (similar), Buffalo Check Top: Forever 21, Red Skinny Jeans: Old Navy (similar), Faux Fur Stole: Forever 21 (better!), Boots: Steve Madden.
January 10th 2012
We arrived in Oklahoma City last week tired, cranky and apparently — without our stuff.
When we first started researching our move across the US, we came to several options. Each of them cost a boat-load of money and involved some kind of irritation. Whether it was flying with an angry cat, potentially driving a 17 foot van through a blizzard or letting someone handle it for a larger fee, there was no getting around the fact that it was going to suck.
We found a company that would move our stuff for us and after calculating all our costs with gas, flying and shipping we came to the conclusion that letting them haul our crap off to meet us there would be the best option. In the end — because we have a lot of large overpriced furniture, ahem — we ended up paying more than expected. We left 3 days after our stuff, driving my truck out there with the cat, dog, each other and the open road. As you know, that went well and we had fun road-tripping through the Southwest.
We learned after arriving that our stuff was not in fact on it’s way. It was likely still in storage somewhere in California. That’s when we were told to read the fine print on our contract.
“Expect delivery 3-21 business days after your first given date of availability” and that’s when I smacked my husband upside the head for missing that tidbit. Yes, he arranged the whole contract without me, and that will never happen again I might add. I mean, I’m not bitter by any means …
So what is packed into storage “somewhere” you ask? Everything we own. Nearly 75% of my wardrobe, 50 of my 56 pairs of shoes and 2 dearly fretted over Kate Spade purses. I could give a rat’s ass about the furniture, plates and extra towels. All I keep seeing are my Charles Jourdan red leather pumps packed away (gently of course) in some box in Southern California.
Seriously. I’m THAT GIRL.
I mean, I did insist on ALL my jewelry and quite a bit of my wardrobe coming with us. Still, an excuse is an excuse. I’m going shopping.
