I had been down this road everyday for the past three years on my way to work, and before that I lived in the area my entire life. For some strange reason I just could not find the U-haul place. I never remembered seeing a sign for it and I did not see one this day, as I drove back and forth looking for address 352. There was a house labeled 355. U-turn. There was a 349 address. U-turn. Where the truck is 352? After about ten minutes of neat k-turns on a busy road, I finally found the phone number. As I spoke to the kind lady I realized just how silly I had been. Of course it is right here. Two houses down from Anna's restaurant. Of course sweet, gentle lady. Only, it is not two houses down from Anna's restaurant because I am sitting in the driveway two houses down from Anna's restaurant and frankly it is getting uncomfortable because a family is looking at me, and not in the hey there, come on in and rent a U-haul kind of way.
Eventually, I did get the real location out of this woman, and just so we are clear, I was joking about the sweet part. The U-haul place turned out to be a colonial white house and its only sign was INSIDE the office. I made sure to comment on how helpful that was. Many hidden fees later, I was on my way in my big ten foot truck.
I had convinced the important men in my life their Friday evening would be best spent carrying large bedroom furniture up not one, but three flights of stairs. And they believed me! This made for a fairly painless move (for me) and four days later I am almost all settled in. Albeit two blown fuses, a small, tiny fire in the kitchen and a human shaped hole through the garage door, everything is going amazing.
Just kidding about the fire, roomie.