Are We Having Fun Yet?

 Just for giggles, I looked back in my address book (no, I don't keep a paper one - it's electronic), for all our addresses over the past ten years.  There are sixteen addresses.  I didn't count the house we lived in for five days.  That's a funny story.  We have friends who were moving from Austin to Houston, and they leased us their house in Austin for the price of the utilities.  We agreed to keep it in 'show condition' and allow realtors to market/show the house to their clients.  Well, I must have been 'on' during one of the first showings because the house sold five days after we arrived, and we had to move!  I also didn't tally in the address count our Hurst house of 20 years which we left in 2010.   And I didn't count the ten addresses the year we trekked across Canada.  So, we've moved sixteen times.

What made me think about all of our previous moves was the sheer HELL this move from one part of Brooklyn to another has been.  None of our other moves was as difficult as this one and that includes the move up here from Arizona.  I've written about the Verizon problems.  Only 12 hours on the telephone [thanks, Drake], and lo and behold, we got an appointment for a service tech to show up, check all the existing equipment and install a magic box out of which flows internet.  

However, the Verizon idiocy was just the warm up act. First, let me introduce you to the new apartment.  It was built in 1982 - a good thing since it's wider than 22 feet - the typical width of a Brooklyn brownstone in this area.  22 feet wide means silly little things like bathrooms, modern kitchens, and closets are tortuously overlaid on these long, narrow spaces.  They reminded me of a badly designed house trailer.  So, I was thrilled to get a 'modern' apartment in an area which is woefully short of apartments built later than 1929.  

The apartment also has a modern kitchen recently remodeled with top flight appliances, and it's AIR CONDITIONED with a real system instead of noisy window units.  It actually has two bathrooms  - another almost unheard of novelty in this neighborhood.  The downside is it's a 'parlor' unit - meaning you have to trudge up a flight of stairs to reach it.  [In our case, that's 13 steps.  I should have known it was an omen.]

The owner was very enthusiastic when we signed the lease about six weeks prior to our move in date because he was having the outside of the apartment building painted, and he was going to 'redo' the stairs.  He assured us this would all be completed long before we would move in.  Drake was pretty insistent in getting the owner to understand the dates, so the job would be finished prior to our move-in.

Do you see where this is going?  Yep, we arrived with our moving truck to discover workmen laying outdoor tile over the porch, AND the 13 step staircase (thank heaven it was actually THERE) was covered in tarp.  The workers start insisting we can't possibly go up our stairs and cross the porch to move our furniture/possessions inside.   Then, the comedy really started.

We were then told the 'plan' was for the movers to use the neighbor's stairs, cross his porch where the workers had handily taken down the wrought iron divider between our porch and his.  There were just a couple of tiny weeny problems.  There was only ten inches of walkway between a series of big unmovable planters all the way down the length of the neighbor's porch.  Not nearly enough clearance for a dolly with a piece of furniture balanced on it.  Oh, and when you miraculously arrive at our porch, the movers were supposed to step onto a 2x8 inch plank, balance, and then jump into our entry foyer.  

Good plan, don't you think?  People are beginning to wave arms at this point, and I'm saying unkind (but not profane) things quite loudly.  I'm very proud of myself for my lack of profanity since I was spitting angry.  To top all of this, the neighbor comes out of HIS house, and we discover no one bothered to ask him if his property could be used! 

Drake, being the very definition of patience, in contrast to me who is like Vesuvius at this point, finally gets the workers to contact their 'boss' who agrees we have the right to use our own staircase and move in.   He was totally mystified and according to him, completely uninformed of our move in date.  Yeah, right.  That's why his working crew took down the barrier between the neighbor's porch and ours. 

The final solution was the 'boss' would bring over large pieces of 4x8 foot plywood to overlay the newly laid tiles on the porch.  Oh, and did I mention ALL of the concrete at ground level had been jack hammered up?  What was left was four feet of mud between the gate at the sidewalk and the bottom of our stairs.  It would also be plywooded.  

The 'boss' insisted it would be fifteen minutes, TOPS, and furniture would be headed across the ground level plywood, up the 13 steps, across the porch plywood and into the new apartment.  Our moving crew leader is busily snapping pictures on his iphone of damages he sees to the steps when the tarp is removed prior to his crew setting foot on them.  One hour after the conversation with the 'boss', our movers are still twiddling their thumbs, well, playing with phones, and waiting.  Steam is coming out of my ears.  I was so angry I had to retreat inside our apartment before I said/did something inappropriately outrageous because I was so furious.

First, I couldn't believe this was happening AT ALL.  The owner's response when Drake called his lake house in upstate New York was, "Oh, I thought all that work was done."  [How stupid does this yoyo think we are?]  Second, the 'delay' was costing $190 an hour for the idle movers.  Third, what a great way to meet your new next door neighbor!  Fourth, if the Verizon gods were thwarted, who knew when we'd get the magical internet?

Drake in his solve the problem fashion managed to make peace with the neighbor, apologize to the movers for wasting their time, and get the workers to back off the area we needed to use.  He never even raised his voice.  What a guy!  I also get points for retreating and only muttering angry sentences out the open window to anyone within earshot.  It didn't take long for the worker bees to move out of hearing.  One and a half hours after we arrived - 15 minutes my ass -, furniture finally started to flow up the stairs.

Other than a hitch with the gas meter being inaccessible, and the Verizon tech also having to come back to switch on the magic box, this move deteriorated into the mundane of slow hard work.  15,000 steps in three days, and we're moved in.  Shoot me an email if you need the new address.  We'll be here for Christmas, and I love those Christmas cards.  Let me just say in closing, this apartment had better be fabulous.