You don’t even know half of our moving-day adventure. We skimmed over it before because we wanted to show you empty shots of our old place and pictures of the new house’s interior — but the story itself deserved to be told. Buckle up and enjoy the ride. As we mentioned earlier, the day began with an unexpected snowstorm. And even though it wasn’t a Friday the 13th, the Monday we picked for closing felt every bit as unlucky. That’s never ideal when closing and moving are scheduled for the same day.

The snow was beautiful, but it contributed to a string of small disasters. First, the storm knocked out power at our attorney’s office, which made it harder to stay updated and transfer files in time. That delay pushed the closing to Tuesday, but the snow was only the beginning of our troubles.

About an hour before the new owners were due to return with the keys, our 26-foot U-Haul ended up in a ditch — the ditch at the end of the driveway we’d just sold. Technically it was someone else’s ditch and someone else’s mailbox the truck was leaning on. Not exactly the way we imagined handing the property over.

Here’s how it happened. Sherry had already driven to my sister’s with Clara and Burger while we waited for the final paperwork. I’d been dropped off at the old house to meet the buyers and their agent for a final walk-through to confirm the place was vacant and intact. The walk-through went smoothly. I followed them out in the giant truck full of our belongings, and then the truck slipped off the driveway.

I blame a mix of focusing on keeping the front end from sliding into the opposite ditch, snow hiding the driveway’s edge, and my lack of experience driving a big truck. That’s how I tell it. Sherry remembers it as a quick phone call:

JOHN: Walk-through went fine. They’re off to close and I’m headed to the new house.

SHERRY: Okay, be careful. It’s snowy — drive slow, even if people honk. Don’t end up in a ditch.

JOHN: I will. Don’t worry.

SHERRY: Great. I just don’t want you ending up in a ditch or anything.

JOHN: Crap, the truck is in a ditch and I think I knocked over the mailbox.

SHERRY: You’re kidding, right?

We can laugh about it now, but at the time it felt catastrophic. I pictured all our boxes crushed and a long wait for a tow truck that would delay the new owners and their return with the keys. Luckily none of that came to pass. The mailbox didn’t fall over, and the belongings inside the truck survived despite the truck’s back dropping at least 18 inches when it slipped off the driveway. It felt like a little Christmas miracle.

A tow truck arrived surprisingly quickly considering the storm and multiple cars stuck elsewhere. Within about half an hour the U-Haul was pulled out. I slowly drove it — practically one mile an hour — to our new house. I called the new owners’ agent and agreed to repair the cracked mailbox post. Between the tow charge and the mailbox repair, the incident cost us $185. Annoying, yes, but far better than a delayed closing, broken possessions, or an injury.

That evening, to lighten the mood and mark the fresh start, I surprised Sherry with a small housewarming gift: a delicate gold turtle necklace she’d admired. The little token came with a note about the turtle’s symbolism: steadfastness, patience, and being at home within oneself. As we moved from one house to another, the message felt right — our sense of home travels with us, regardless of an unlucky day or a roadside mishap.

And in a funny little twist, the truck itself had a giant turtle decal on the back. Coincidence? Maybe. After the ditch, the tow, and the inexpensive repairs, making it into our new house that night felt sweeter. We’d battled unexpected adversity and still arrived where we belonged by the end of the day.

So that’s the tale of Monday the 13th: a snowstorm, a stuck U-Haul, a dented mailbox, and a reminder that home is more than a place. Consider this your warning about what can happen when a case of the Mondays collides with an unlucky number — but also a little proof that things usually turn out better than they look at first.