I’ve been havin’ some hard travelin’, I thought you knowed
I’ve been havin’ some hard travelin’, way down the road
I’ve been havin’ some hard travelin’, hard ramblin’, hard gamblin’
Been havin’ some hard travelin’, Lord
I’ve been ridin’ with Mark Brown, I thought you knowed
I’ve been sittin shotgun, all down the road
I been chuggin’ down Dayquil, had my fill, cold n’ chill
I’ve been havin’ some hard travelin’, Lord
The ward showed up on time to load the truck, but I didn’t. Took longer to rent the truck than I anticipated. Luckily I had pretty much everything boxed up and ready to go. As my elder’s quorum president said in his announcement last Sunday, “we have a two-bedroom apartment, ground floor, no stairs, this one couldn’t be easier, guys.” He’s a great president, and he has two simple rules for folks who need moving assistance. First: give two weeks advanced notice. Second, the elders don’t box stuff. So I made sure to take a break from writing this week to have most everything boxed and ready to go.
As the introductory post to this short and largely boring series indicated, there’s some controversy about having the EQ or ward members in general help with moves. Let’s keep the comments on the happy side of the line, but I’m interested in how your wards and branches handle move-ins and move-outs.
Eight hours driving, two men in the cab of a truck with an E350 Super Duty engine, with The Ballad of Gypsy Rose twanging through the speakers, with a dog sitting between us, out on the open road. The testosterone is as thick as the prepositional phrases.
Well, it was until Blair started to cross-stitch. That kind of killed the buzz.