Moving Out.
When I show up to a radar site, it's always a big production setting up the room. Rearranging furniture to accommodate the trainer, finding extra lamps (I like bright rooms- especially during the dark months) and fans, unpacking the luggage, building the bike... It usually takes a good part of a day to get things set up and running like I want them to. I've learned how to set up the various rooms to suit my needs without much hassle.
On the back side, tearing down is equally a big deal. All of that stuff I spread out to every nook and cranny of a ~150 square foot room has to be gathered up, sorted, and packed away. It's amazing how much of it there is, especially after a couple months out there. Instead of throwing it in any old case I can find, I try to put things more or less in their place so my packing for the next trip won't take as long. My bags usually stay packed when I get home, except to replenish consumables or replace the odd item.
On the day before I'm scheduled to leave, I start sorting. Anything that I can do without for a day or two is packed away. Clothes and extra bedding get laundered. I usually try to get in a workout or two (just in case my travel gets delayed), then pack up the bike and trainer. Bike kit gets washed and hung to dry. The extra furniture and lamps I've scrounged get returned to their original locations. The room get scrubbed and sanitized for the next guy, then all of the furniture is put in place. Luggage is rolled out to be weighed and loaded into the truck for the ride out to the airfield. The room that I returned to every night is back to the way I found it.
Let's be honest- unlike some of my stranger co-workers, I never call my room home. Partly it's because I bounce from site to site and never truly get settled. Mostly it's because I realize home is somewhere else, which explains my enthusiasm when it comes time to pack up. It's just the place I slept and rode the trainer and watched tv and passed the hours trying to find the end of the internet. For some people, that's enough to call it home. Not me.
When it's time to go, it's time to go.
On the back side, tearing down is equally a big deal. All of that stuff I spread out to every nook and cranny of a ~150 square foot room has to be gathered up, sorted, and packed away. It's amazing how much of it there is, especially after a couple months out there. Instead of throwing it in any old case I can find, I try to put things more or less in their place so my packing for the next trip won't take as long. My bags usually stay packed when I get home, except to replenish consumables or replace the odd item.
On the day before I'm scheduled to leave, I start sorting. Anything that I can do without for a day or two is packed away. Clothes and extra bedding get laundered. I usually try to get in a workout or two (just in case my travel gets delayed), then pack up the bike and trainer. Bike kit gets washed and hung to dry. The extra furniture and lamps I've scrounged get returned to their original locations. The room get scrubbed and sanitized for the next guy, then all of the furniture is put in place. Luggage is rolled out to be weighed and loaded into the truck for the ride out to the airfield. The room that I returned to every night is back to the way I found it.
Let's be honest- unlike some of my stranger co-workers, I never call my room home. Partly it's because I bounce from site to site and never truly get settled. Mostly it's because I realize home is somewhere else, which explains my enthusiasm when it comes time to pack up. It's just the place I slept and rode the trainer and watched tv and passed the hours trying to find the end of the internet. For some people, that's enough to call it home. Not me.
When it's time to go, it's time to go.
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