Or a story about moving, a tale that deserves to be told because of its ridiculousness. Not a story that will move you to tears. If you want to cry, go watch The Notebook.
D and I moved to our current 2 bedroom apartment last May. We loved it the first time we set foot on its great, new wooden floors. The living room was spacious, the bedroom huge, and now we could even have a small office. Yada, yada yada, it was love at first sight so we signed the lease.
Now fast forward to moving day. After a week spent packing, labeling and marveling at how much crap we’ve accumulated (ok, mostly me, D can be quite frugal), we were ready to load a truck full of said crap. We rented a 20 ft one from U Haul and started loading the heavy stuff first. D was a real trooper, putting his muscles to good use, so all went smoothly for the first 10 minutes until it started to rain. Yup, we got rain all day long, imagine how thrilled we were. NOT!
Before I delve into the heart of the story, let me tell you a little bit about the apartment. It was newly built, so the outside entrances weren’t finished. In fact there wasn’t any pavement yet in the back alley, just dirt turned into mud from all the rain. There are three parallel back entrances to the building, each with a staircase leading to a series of apartments. All the entrances look the same, and keep in mind that this was only our third visit to this place, the previous times we’d taken the front entrance.
So here we are, D has managed to bring the humongous truck into the back alley which was only a little bit wider than the truck was long, and now we had to position it exactly in front of the staircase leading up to the apartment – it was raining and we didn’t want to lug our heavy furniture any extra centimeters except the ones necessary.
You cannot imagine the insane amount of maneuvering it took to get the truck into place. YOU CANNOT IMAGINE! Like having to do backflips in a New York City bathroom. But finally the truck was in place, quite perfectly and both D and I were very happy with ourselves. Now it was time to start moving things inside. So D goes up to the second floor to open the door… And, surprise! The key doesn’t work. He tries again, with all the keys on the key chain. Nothing! He then goes around, to the front of the building, crosses the apartment and comes out on the back door and waves at me. Except that, and try to imagine my amazement, I see D standing on the second floor of entrance #2, not entrance #1 where I was expecting him to be. *facepalm*.
So what do you do when after one hour of trying to get the truck into place, you realize that ummm, that’s not the right place. It was the middle entrance. Just a few feet to the left. What can you do, really, except laugh, and then move the monster truck again. To top it all, there was a gigantic hole in front of our staircase (the right one) now filled with muddy water of course, so not only was the van a bit slanted, but take it from someone who’s been through that, it’s very hard to watch your step when you’re carrying a dresser out of a slanted truck.
Thank God there’s a great brunch place right across the street. After a few hours of lugging stuff and stepping in puddles we needed to replenish our energy stocks. So we stuffed our faces with calorie-packed foods which included, to our waitress’s amazement a very hearty breakfast PLUS a humongous chocolate+banana crepe.
So that was moving day, folks. And to this day I wonder at how D and I defied the laws of physics by managing to bring our fat couch up on our tiny staircase. Oh, yeah, and our neighbors were watching from across the street while flipping burgers on the barbecue. They got lunch AND a show.