I shook my fist in a similar manner on Saturday as I lugged the 517th box of books around my new apartment. Why (oh why!) do I collect books? Why couldn't I collect something like cotton balls, instead? Of course, there was no answer to that question--other than the obvious, which is that I did not have sufficient exposure to cotton ball collectors as a child. (Thanks, parents.)
But I'm getting ahead of myself. Here I am, shaking my fist ruefully in my new apartment, and I haven't said anything about how I got from the old apartment into the new. Rewind, a few hours to Saturday morning:
I got up early on Saturday and set about finishing the remaining tasks that needed to be done before the movers arrived at 3pm. I bought some more boxes from UPS, dismantled the dining room table and desk, cleaned the bathroom and kitchen, vacuumed everywhere. Then I went over and checked into my new place, which was all pristine and ready to go:
And so I spent the next hour or so sitting on the loading dock with my stuff waiting for the movers to unload and come back. Surprisingly enough, it turned out to be an interesting hour. Some woman came by and we ended up having a lively discussion about the building and our respective flooding experiences. She was properly horrified by mine, and I was aghast at hers: Apparently a couple of months ago a pipe had burst and flooded the lowest level of the parking garage with about 4 feet of water, completely destroying this woman's brand new custom-ordered Mercedes (and every other car that had been parked on that level).
When the movers returned, they quickly picked up the rest of my things and we headed over to finish the unloading. At which point I received confirmation that these guys were really not good at handling Point B. The apartment was in complete disarray! Honestly, dizzy blind aliens couldn't have unloaded my boxes and furniture in a more random manner. Most of my book boxes were in the closet. Book cases, lamp shades, and end tables were scattered among little clusters of boxes. The movers hadn't even bothered to put the cushions back on the couch! Surely, even if the men had never heard of organization before, they might have recalled the orderliness of my original packing? Apparently not.
That's right. It was a COMPLETE DISASTER. But nothing was broken or otherwise destroyed. What a blessing. Still, it was so chaotic I could barely think straight. So I paid the movers for their time and set about imposing order. Which, let's be honest, is something I'm really good at. Especially when I know that (1) I have to go back to work in a few short hours, with no guarantee of a break at least until the following weekend, and (2) in a couple of days Amanda would arrive for a prolonged visit and really ought to be welcomed with someplace more hospitable than a stretch of cement on the balcony. By the time I went to bed Sunday night, I had made some decent progress:
There's still plenty of work to do before I get on the cover of Better Homes and Gardens (you should see the stack of boxes on the balcony!), but at least it resembles a civilized person's house (pre-tornado).
The jury's still out on what I think about the apartment itself. I knew it was going to be smaller than my last place, but it feels A LOT smaller -- to the point of feeling cramped. I'm definitely going to have to get rid of some furniture, and I'm completely mystified at how I'm going to store any amount of food in the kitchen cupboards when I can barely get my dishes to fit in them!
Also, there's the question of the wall color and lighting. I loved my last place because it felt extremely light and fresh. The walls were a cool off-white, with my bluish accent wall and floods of natural light. In this apartment, everything is yellowish. The walls are yellowish, the lighting is yellowish, the carpet is yellowish. And there isn't enough natural light to tone it down. It's alarming, actually. I can't repaint the entire apartment, so I'm going to have to see what I can do with a few of the walls. But that's a project for another day. Hopefully Amanda and I can spend some time painting after she gets here. In any event, once I get the place to a presentable state, I'll give an official tour.
Ammon doesn't believe me that we SERIOUSLY did have to walk to school up hill both ways! I'm glad you're in your new place!
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