I got an early-morning jingle from my good pal Gail at Nationwide Van Lines to tell me that we could expect a delivery between 6 and 6:30. Tonight?, I asked, as I'd been told on Friday that Tuesday or Wednesday would be the date. Yes, tonight. I could scarcely believe my ears! So I set to work readying the apartment for the arrival of load. Lord only knows where everything is going to go (and I'm half considering using the still-vacant former apartment as a holding space for the inevitable overflow). We've already decided that the piano will live in Buggy's bedroom since there's ample room in there, and boy, does she ever love to tinkle on the keys! What better way to allow her to build a relationship with this instrument than to have it as a bunkmate?
Our moving crew arrived right on time at 6:15. I never got their names - one was Russian, the other was from some Caribbean island nation - but were they ever hard workers. Efficient as you please. One thing that made me less than happy is Nationwide's policy to charge $100 if there's more than 75 feet between the truck and doorstep. We should've blocked off a section of the street to reserve a space for them because two cars were parked right out front (and wouldn't you know? As the guys were going for the final load, the offending Honda Element pulled away. Isn't that always the way?). They had to park 120 feet from the door, and luckily I had enough cash in my wallet because they don't accept checks and the office, for taking credit card orders, was closed).
Another beef is that the 100 year-old Lincoln rocker I got when I was pregnant in anticipation of rocking my nursing Goon, was badly damaged during the first move from the Maine storage unit (the stuff sat in a New Jersey warehouse during the interim). I'm hoping that a liberal application of Elmer's wood glue will do the trick until the next tax return comes and I can afford to pay a professional to put things right with the old gal. It is a pretty sweet piece of furniture. If it had been me, I would've offered to waive the cost of the 45 extra feet to compensate us for the loss. Unfortunately it wasn't me.
My Rob spent hours this morning slaving away in the kitchen (as every good husband should!) unpacking boxes, washing dishes, organizing cabinets, consolidating spices and labeling their jars, while I deftly hacked into my thumb with a bread knife while attempting to slice through a taped box (stitches were probably in order, but we made do with a tightly-wrapped Band-Aid), did a laundry and recycling center run, disposed of the mountainous wads of packing tape, and filled our dresser drawers. The space is beginning to come together and it won't be long till it's livable again. I'm just glad it came when it did; this will give us time to get the place ready for my parents when they come to visit the weekend after next. I'm very excited to have them here!
The Lincoln rocker. You can't see very well the mangled side of it, but it's just as well; it would break your heart.
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