What a move! I thought that I had the world's worst move but now I'm not sure. I once moved with the packers smoking and dropping ashes in the boxes (didn't discover until I unpacked). They were big men in their twenties and I was there by myself (in my late twenties) and afraid of them. They wore those hunting vests with pockets. When they would put them aside I would check the pockets to see what they had stolen. The day we moved they arrived 4 hours late and one of the movers was drinking. After he drug my velvet sofa (ok this was a long time ago)across the floor, my husband said, "that's it." He talked to the foreman who told us to call the police. By the time the police came, the mover was passed out in our front yard with his legs hanging out into the street. By this time it was 9pm and dark inside because we didn't have many overhead lights in the house. The truck they brought was too small and they left with our refrigerator strapped onto the back door of the van. Oh, by then the police had brought the drunk mover back to go home with his buddies. We had to close on our new house the next day; so, at 2am in the morning, my husband and I drove our cars to our new location (2 hours away) with two tiny children along. Thankfully, we lived to tell about it!

The worst is over, Gil. Enjoy your new home.