On asking for help

Why is it so frikkin' hard?

I did my big move last week, from Nova Scotia to Montreal. For those not from Canada, that’s a 1250 kilometre distance - so not quite as simple as just moving your stuff to a flat a couple of towns over. There were many logistics to figure out about this move. 

My parents (who are ridiculously incredible people), were helping me every step of the way. For weeks, they’ve been coming over to my place and gradually helping me pack my life up. We hired a U-Haul truck and agreed that my dad would drive that to Montreal and I would drive myself, my mum and Biggie in my car. 

Last week, as more and more of my things got packed into boxes, I started to get a little panicky. How on earth was I going to move my bed? My sofa? I have an antique cash register, which is my prized possession, but that sucka weighs 150lbs and is an absolute nightmare to move. My parents are in their 70s. My dad has a bad back and my mum has arthritis rapidly developing in her hand - I didn’t want either of them hurting themselves trying to lift my really heavy stuff. And while my gym sessions have definitely been making me much stronger, much to my dismay, I am still not Wonder Woman. There was only one thing for it…