Hey, we’re all moved in now. I know this because the boxes are piled up to the ceiling, I have vowed never to speak to anyone at the moving company ever again, the children have arrived and bounced off the walls and declared their closets secret clubhouses (hey, did you know that in Georgia most people do not have basements? and so there are many many closets, as a pitiful excuse for storage, instead?), and there is no paint or anything having to do with paint sitting around on my floor anymore.
So, yeah, it’s simply lovely, and if you don’t mind getting lost in the Magical Box Labryinth or being woken up at dawn by the contractors, you should totally come on over.
I started writing a post earlier today when we still didn’t have internet, and it basically said that I was sitting here trying to work while the contractors banged on the roof and the movers came in and out and then the cable guy showed up and I was ALL HAPPY except that he turned out to be all kinds of cranky. And then I wrote about how he’d gone up the telephone pole outside and it would be a shame if he fell, because he might squish one of the moving guys and the moving guys were actually very nice.
But I ended up not finishing it, for various reasons, and I’ve had to adjust my opinions since then, anyway.
For one thing, the grumpy cable guy was just having a bad day, but he did improve his attitude eventually and also fish a new line for us, so I won’t complain too much about him I guess. (He is not Comcastic, by the way. He is Charteriffic.)
For another thing, although the moving crew really was quite nice, it would not be my life if they didn’t leave me with a story or four.
First: I met them at the door to say that I was certain they would be very careful ANYWAY, naturally, but to point out that we had just spent the last three days painting and would REALLY REALLY REALLY appreciate it if they could be EXTRA CAREFUL and not ding the walls. My, they were so kind and accommodating. I would say they didn’t ding the walls in more than seven places.
Second: Of the crew of three, one of the men had such a thick southern accent that I could never understand a word he said. I’m pretty good at faking it in those sorts of situations, but I’d been given a clipboard with an inventory list and I was supposed to be marking off numbers as they brought stuff in, and this guy would come in and shout out “EVENTYEEE” and I’d say “Seventy three, got it,” and he’d look at me like I had twelve heads and say “TWENTY EIGHT, MA’AM” reeeeeally sloooooow so that my poor, retarded self might be able to get it.
Third: Some of my stuff was damaged. Minor things, mostly, but my still-pretty-new bed is COVERED in I don’t even want to know what. “It was in a box!” they kept saying. Well, yes, the mattress was definitely in a box. What was in that box before my mattress was black. And slightly gooey. SOB.
Fourth: What IS it with hired workers and bathrooms?? This afternoon I walked into my bathroom, closed/locked the door, and discovered that there was no toilet paper. But not just no toilet paper, no toilet paper ROLL. The entire thing was missing. Huh. Well, fine, I still had to pee, so rather than figure out this mystery, I went across to Otto’s bathroom… where I found a roll of toilet paper on the holder (duh) and then the roll from MY bathroom sitting on top of the toilet tank. Why? WHY??
Also this afternoon, the contractor came looking for Otto. I said he was around somewhere but I wasn’t sure where. He asked if Otto had a cell phone, and I said yes, but I have a cell phone right here, what did he need? He said oh, he was just wanting to call and verify with him that it was okay to remove this rotted board they found, because it needs replacing. He and I looked at each other for a minute.
“Um, if it’s rotted and needs replacing, please replace it,” I said.
“Oh,” he said, comprehension dawning (as he seemed to realize that my look didn’t say “math is hard” so much as it said “starting to get pissed”) “I guess I could probably just ask you, since you’re the one who hired me.”
“Riiiiight,” I said. “You could ask me because I’m the one who hired you. I know I’m just a girl and everything, but I’m also the one paying you by the way.” The contractor nodded and stuck his head out the door. “Hey, go ahead and replace that board. And if you need anything else, you come ask Mir. She’s in charge.”
Damn straight. And also WELCOME TO THE SOUTH, me. Maybe I should just shut my mouth and go bake a pie.
I totally would, if I had any idea where my pie pans are, or if I wasn’t parked on the couch with my laptop and this lovely libation that Otto was kind enough to bring me right before he went to go make up the bed. (He also cleaned up after dinner while I corralled children. I may just let him be in charge for a while, because he’s pretty useful.)