PACKING THEM IN

Steven is on his way to UHAUL to fetch the truck. Tomorrow we load it up and then he and his son will head on out with all of our stuff.  I will stay here with the dogs. In a week, if all goes well, we will get some money and turn over the keys.

We have been trekking to the new place almost bi-monthly all summer. Over Labor Day we packed the antique treadles into the back of the Tacoma. I truly wanted to take them all: the Howe, the Wilcox and Gibbs, the Davis and the Mystery Singer. I was willing to leave behind the Mystery Singer. Ouch. Luckily, I didn't have to. 

That's it right there.

The Davis and the Howe and the Wilcox and Gibbs are all jammed in there. I packed up each machine and tucked them where ever we could. I jammed the containers full of fabric anywhere they would fit, too. We are packers. 

 This is the shop. It's completely empty now.  A lot of stuff went to the "Free Store" at the end of the drive way. That compressor is still with us. I am hoping I can take it along. I know it will tuck right under the Nolting frame.

 I'm absolutely not sad to be moving. I am not sad that I ditched a lot of stuff. I am suffering from the chaos of the move. This morning I could not find any underwear. I really needed clean panties. I eventually found them, buried in a suitcase. But not before panicking a little bit.

The new space is dark. It's a basement after all. There are two windows. Hanging the shop lights and painting the walls with white  dri-lock made all the difference.  All the stuff is piled in the middle of the floor to provide access to the walls.

 Once all the stuff is there and I can sort it out. Maybe ditch some more machines. We will be in the 802 area code. There seems to be a paucity of machines up there.

I have a Kenmore and a Singer 66 left. I have to deal with them over the next few days. Or maybe I should just pack them up.