I've almost been in my new apartment for one full week. It's a lovely place, although its imperfections are beginning to show. I can hear when someone comes in the front door, I think my upstairs neighbor is a fitness buff who does sort of loud exercises on the floor at 6am, and my downstairs neighbor is a smoker and the lovely scent (that's sarcasm) of cigarettes wafts up through my radiator and drifts right across the place where I sit at my desk to head level when I'm lying in bed. Awesome. But really? For what I get, the neighborhood I get to live in, and the fact that I get to live alone, what I'm paying is an amazing deal.
So I moved on the 28th. I woke up at 6:30 to wash my sheets and towels and deflate my bed. (Yup. Still sleeping on an
Aerobed.) After everything came out of the dryer I hit the subway to ride to Brooklyn and sign my lease. It's about an hour from Harlem to Brooklyn, what with waiting for trains, and transferring between lines. I signed the lease, paid my first month's rent, got the keys, made sure they worked, and ran back to the subway again to meet the movers. I had scheduled the appointment at 1pm, but the confirmation email said that they might arrive an hour prior or an hour after that time. It was 11:00 when I got on the train back to Harlem.
I made it back to my apartment by noon and continued packing the last little bits of stuff scattered around my room. For those who have ever moved, have you noticed that when you feel like you're done packing, there are still little bits of bric-a-brac laying around and you have no idea where they came from but you must use them so you have to find a place to put them? Yeah, I usually just throw them in an available bag and keep moving. I should just throw them away or give them a proper home, but that never happens. You'd think I'd learned after five moves in five months. Nope.
1:00 rolled around, no movers. 2:00, still no movers. I called the company to ask if they were on their way, and the receptionist assured me that they were, it's just that the rain had slowed everything way down. (Oh, yeah, I didn't mention that the day was blustery and rainy. It's absolutely beautiful outside for two weeks, and the day I move, it decides to pour.) I assured her that I wasn't mad, just wanted to make sure that they were still on their way.
At 4:30, the movers finally came. They were sweaty, and their English wasn't great, but they were polite and fast. I was amazed at how quickly they were able to get all of my things out with just two men and a dolly. In fact, the younger guy (he looked like he was still in high school) stayed with the truck and the older man moved everything out into the hall and down the elevator. I felt a little guilty just standing there, but I was paying for them to move me.
Once my pile of belongings was gone, I double-checked the bathroom, my bedroom, and the living room for anything left behind (other than things I had intentionally left), and I headed downstairs. I made sure they knew where they were going and hit the subway again. This ride was a little tougher on me as it was rush hour and kids were getting out of school and being obnoxious (that's a whole other blog).
I know I've spent too much time in the subway when I start to get irritated when someone's bag brushes me. And this time I had my rolling cart with two bags on it, my messenger bag over my shoulder, and a plastic bag in my hand. People don't seem to understand that when you have a lot of stuff, you need more space. I had to push my way out of the subway car and I'm sure I smacked a few people with my bags, but when they won't move, that's their issue, not mine.
Once in Brooklyn I trucked to my apartment to wait for the movers. In the meantime I took a few pictures and inspected the place to make sure there wasn't anything egregiously wrong. There's a hole in the ceiling in the kitchen, and there's a strange open pipe in the bathroom that I believe connects to the tub's piping somehow, but other than that, it's fine.
It grew darker, and finally the movers showed up. I ran to the bank to get cash to pay them while they worked and discovered that I live on a really pleasant street, even in the rain and cold. I was gone for about 15 minutes, and by the time I got back everything but the desk was in my apartment. They were finished by 7:00pm; not bad. So other than being rather late, I would recommend Olga Movers to anyone who wanted an inexpensive move across town with some non-surly dudes. Look 'em up on Craigslist.
The rest of the Moving Day tale continues tomorrow...
Labels: moving sux, New Yahwk New Yahwk, weather
