Well, Stitchers, it looks like another post sans pictures! Alas, I still can’t find the cable to attach the camera to the computer, and besides, our apartment is an ungodly mess. Until I have things in relative order (we are getting closer to that), I refuse to post pictures.
Instead of showing you shiny photos, though, I shall first apologize for not posting Friday and second attempt to entertain you with a story that sort of sums up the majority of how this move has gone for us.
We have been in the apartment for just over a week at this point. We decided in the middle of last week, amidst the chaos of unopened boxes and floors crowded with upturned furniture, that we would wait until this past Saturday to do most of the shifting around of bigger pieces of the puzzle (after spending Wednesday – or maybe Tuesday – arranging the bedrooms, which turned out to be the least eventful thing we’ve done since deciding to take this apartment).
So, Saturday starts with me taking class at La Mano (which was spectacular; a post on Sacred Spiral Pottery to follow, hopefully later this week) and returning for a late brunch around 2:00. We have delicious, delicious brunch at a place around the corner and then head home to do the heavy lifting. First up: the armoire that we bought to house all of Chad’s clothes. When we first moved everything in, it ended up in the living room (downstairs) despite needing to end up in a bedroom (upstairs). We needed to get it upstairs, so we opened the super-top-secret door in the upstairs bedroom, dragged the thing out into the hallway downstairs, and start lugging it up the hallway stairs (the staircase in our apartment is way too tiny to carry anything up it bigger than a small box). Towards the top of the stairs, Chad had to go through our apartment to come brace the armoire from below because I couldn’t hold it anymore, and I had to go through the apartment to get on top and make sure that we could lead the stupid thing up the stairs and around the bannister.
We get the armoire to the top of the stairs and realize that, if only the legs weren’t attached, we could push it up onto the landing. Well, it took us 15 minutes to push it up here, we can’t take it back down, what if we just shove it really hard? And we do, and magically, the feet clear the landing and now the armoire is standing up in this teensy space between the wall, the bannister, and the next flight of stairs going up. “Perfect!” we think. “Now we just have to jimmy it around the bannister. This will be easy.”
Alas, nothing about this move had been easy up to this point (sans the bedroom switcheroo). The armoire will not jimmy around the bannister. There just isn’t enough space. It gets stuck against the wall, against the top stair, against the bannister. We try rolling it over the railing, but it gets stuck on two separate corners – against the top stair and the side wall.
“Okay,” we say, “let’s just take it back downstairs and take it apart. Then we can carry it up in pieces.”
Only, now we can’t figure out how to get the damn thing back down the stairs.
“We got it up here! How did we get it up here?!”
We can’t figure out how we got it up there. And we push and shove and try caddy-cornering it for at least 30 minutes before giving up and saying, “There is no way to get this back downstairs.”
So now we’re standing on the second floor landing with this huge piece of furniture stuck on the fucking stairs, and all I can think is, I hope that our upstairs neighbors don’t need to go grocery shopping today.
Finally, I tell Chad that we have to take the thing apart right there on the landing, stuck as it was. He looked at me like I was nuts, but went looking for some tools while I braced the stupid thing and hoped it didn’t somehow magically pop out of its stuck-ness and slide down the stairs and kill someone. Chad returns with a weird crowbar-lever thing and a screwdriver. And with about two inches of clearance on all sides, I pull that fucking thing to pieces.
I win the Handyman Award of the Year.
The moral of this story? If you have a giant ass piece of furniture that will come apart, take it apart before you move the damn thing.
The rest of the day went off pretty much without a hitch. All of the major furniture is moved to where it needs to be, and now we’re down to the tedious task of opening all of those boxes and finding homes for all of our things. What’s really sad is that most of my things are still at my Grandmother’s, and I have no idea when (or if!) we’ll feel inclined to go get them. My books are obviously a priority. As are any sewing supplies that I left up there, though I’m sure I can make due with what I have for now.
I hope I can get back to regularly posting and crafting soon. The craft room (or guest bedroom, if you will) is coming along nicely, though unpacking is still going to eat up a lot of my mental energy. We’re almost through, though. By the end of this week, so help me, if there are still any unopened boxes I will light some shit on fire.
In the meanwhile, I hope you are all enjoying this beautiful summer we are having, and getting ready for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows – I already have tickets because I’m a huge, huge nerd. ^.^;
Anyone else have a horrendous moving experience? Please share and let me know that Chad and I are not alone!