Fourteen months filled with lies, inaction, denials, threats, and all sorts of other fun, and finally the time is here.

We have been awarded custody of all those material possessions that we have learned to live without during this past year. Espresso machine, ice cream maker, couch, photos, artwork (by us, by friends living and dead), art supplies, music, electronics supplies (theremin project), movies, clothes, desk, and so much more.

I’ve talked about the Bekins Assholes before. Based on their quote-that-wasn’t-a-quote I made a series of choices that brought me to Halifax. Had they been up front or come out to do an on-site estimate as I requested, I wouldn’t be in Halifax at all.

The local end of the hell began with six months of payments that we believed Hoyt’s (the local United Van Lines rep) being taken off of VISA were followed by an escalated payment plan that could have seen us dining on generic cat food.

Whatever the case, they’re loading the truck right now with out stuff.

It’s coming tomorrow morning.

Based on the offer I made, Randy (the owner?) from Hoyt’s wants me to sign some disclaimer that this is the end of things, and that I’ll disclaim any right to pursue action for damages, loss, etc. Yes, I’m sure I’ll sign that using my real name and without altering the meaning of the text… Not that it matters, as signing anything of this sort under duress strikes me as something that won’t hold up anywhere in the event of real damage or loss.

I already told Lorraine at Hoyt’s that I was aware of the weight of the load being different by 150-200 pounds, and should anything be missing, I’m not signing that away, and that’s what I’m going to add to whatever they want me to sign off on. Failing that, I’ll sign it as “Bob Dobbs.”

Regardless of box count, there could be items missing from within boxes, claimed by sticky fingered movers anyway along the 6000km route things took to get here, so there’s no way I’m giving away that right.