so we moved on sunday in the pouring rain. the movers came to my apartment first where they quickly grabbed my bed and boxes and took off before i had a chance to inspect their doings. they left my air conditioner and a bunch of other stuff that i was hoping to you know,
move. i didn't have much choice but to abandon the AC and scoop everything else into a shopping bag. i hopped on the subway and rode down to brooklyn while the movers were at jim's.
when i got off the subway and above ground in brooklyn my paper shopping bag (filled to the brim with vintage china plates) quickly became saturated with rain water and broke. kicking my umbrella to the curb, i walked the quarter mile to my new apartment juggling a one million pound plastic bag (filled with photo albums) on my left arm and china plates in both hands. on the way i stopped on a corner (in the pouring rain, but i was already soaked anyway) to call jim and let him know just how unfair my life really is.
i wasn't sure the doorman would let me in to such a bougie building looking like a drowned homeless woman with great taste in plates, but he did. of course after i made it inside the lobby i had to call jim to tell him that the Super only left us one set of keys which i thought was "totally unacceptable".
when i finally got into the unit, the place was dirty. like...there was actual dirt on the floor. i shit you not, someone dropped top soil in the kitchen and never picked it up. i immediately called jim to tell him that "everything's filthy. the bath tub is disgusting. there are little hairs on the toilet". i
think the little hairs are actually from a pet because they're everywhere. they're in the fruit and veg crisper drawer in the fridge, they're EVERYWHERE. although i suppose that means nothing. i suppose the little hairs could just be what we all think of when we hear "little hairs", you know...PUBES. i'd rather not think on it.
after all my bitchy phone calls to jim that day, i can't believe he actually showed up to move in with me, but he did so phew!
when the movers made it to the new place they called me to come down and meet them in the lobby. when i got down there, all four movers were in a screaming match with some tall blond woman in a fur coat who wanted to know what "business they had being in the building?" as soon as the chick saw me she must have realized that the guys were hired by the wet girl because she left. on the elevator ride back up to my unit, the movers were going on and on about how that woman was suspicious of them because or their color. i stood there very quietly, feeling very white.
the movers went back down to the truck. they called me 5 minutes later to say that a rottweiler, the building's garage guard dog, was a attacking them and could i please do something about it? i sent jim down there and his whiteness lulled the dog into a peaceful slumber. problem solved.
about one million hours after the day started, the movers left. i was excited to be home and with jim, but extremely stressed out. the only solution? enormous amounts of pizza (jim ordered my favorite toppings despite my inability to hold my shit together for 10 minutes all day) eaten in front of The Princess Bride.
moral of the story? love and pizza make everything better at the end of the day. oh and i am never moving again. not ever.
