So I guess I lied when I said this story was going to be told the next day. "The dasterdly moving company and the brave mover" by Ben Taylor
It was a cloudy and blustery day on the day that our protagonist (Ben) sallied forth on his quest to move all earthly belongings from the dungeon that had held his soul for the last eight months. He knew that this quest would be long, without glory, with much discomfort, and full of travails, and so he girded his loins as for battle and stepped out the door to start this long journey. It was a fitting start that he stepped in a rain puddle on that first step. After shaking out his boot, he mounted his noble steed. It was a companion of many a rough uncomfortable mile these last six months, so he knew just what was needed to coax it to a mood that was conducive to riding.
Ben only had a short time available to acquire his main mode of conveyence for his trip, as well as to assemble the last few supplies needed before he could set out. His taskmaster allotted him a short period over the noon hour, that Ben was allowed to do what he wanted to. So Ben turned his face to the south and commenced on his way. First stop was Stuffmart. Ben had no way to lash his steed to the wagon, once he picked up the wagon, so many ropes and tiedowns were needed in the very near future. Precious minutes were lost wandering the many torturous, twisty, and misleading aisles before the sought after items were found. Many more were lost as other retched souls tried to pay, barter, and steal for their items at the lone paystation open. Finally, he was once again on the road.
This time he looked rather like Don Quixote tilting at windmills, as Ben had forgotten his bag to carry things at work. He made do with stuffing his many purchases down his jacket and hoping that the pressure caused would keep them from spilling onto the road-way as he rode. His directions for where to pick up his wagon were vague at best, misleading at worst, but after much luck and no small amount of skill at reading sign, Ben was able to find the hostler for wagons. There was a faded sign hanging over its door. On it was a picture of some sort of wagon with the word "U-Haul" emblazoned across it. The first stage of his saga was complete.
Ben knew that the master here would drive a hard bargain for purchasing cost, but he had faith that in the end he would not have to part with more money than was absolutely necessary. After many tense minutes of terse communication with first the hired underlings and then finally the master (nay dame) herself, a price was agreed upon. It was steep, and involved many sacrifices of not only the first but also the second born of his yet unborn children. His wagon pulled around front and checked for gross mechanical negligence, Ben rode his steed into the wagon and lashed it down securely so it would not come to harm as the wagon was navigated back to work and from there back to the cottage Ben called home.
The remainder of the day passed without incident, even though Ben did not make it back in the alotted time. At the end of the work day, he loaded up the tools of his trade into the wagon, lashed them down as well, and set his face to the east with a song of gladness in his heart. He knew that soon his face would see many good friends, and his heart would be filled with joy and mirth as stories were exchanged.