A nightmare move!

Hello Dear Reader,
No, I have not fallen off the planet, although I feel like I have, thanks to my lack of internet access. And coming online today after a long time, and seeing updated blogs and unread emails, I felt even more like the earth has continued spinning, leaving me alone in a far away corner. Such is our dependance on this lovely thing we call the Internet!

This week has been a crazy one. I hope this is not a sign of things to come in my new apartment.

Yes, that's right. . . I have moved into a new apartment in the (un)lovely Garden State of New Jersey. And, surprise, surprise, it was the move from hell.

I woke up ready to get out of the hole and into my relatively nicer apartment. I had unpacked very little when I moved into the hole, so I didn't have much to repack. So, when 2:00 arrived -- the time my movers were supposed to arrive -- I was all ready to go. I had made arrangements to pick up a few pieces of furniture from some people on the way, and everything was spic and span and ready to go.

Doesn't sound like me, does it? No, I didn't think so either. I was ABSOLUTELY sure that something was bound to go wrong. So, when the movers hadn't arrived at 2:02, I panicked -- this was what was to go wrong. I called the number I'd called to book them, and there was no answer. Between 2:02 and 2:15, I called four times, and got the voicemail each time.

Maybe they're coming at 2:30, I thought. 2:30 came and went, and no sign of the movers. Maybe 3:00? Nope. A few dozen more calls yielded no response.

I gave myself the luxury of sitting down and having a good cry, holding my head in my hands, alternating between "What am I going to do? What am I going to do?" praying furiously, and cursing the movers to the depths of hell.

Soon, I realized that that wasn't going to get me anywhere. I sat up, then started furiously trawling through the internet trying to find movers who'd be available at the last minute. I called about 30, and nobody was available. They all thought I was crazy, asking them to come that afternoon. "It's the end of the month," they informed me in disbelief. "You think you're going to find someone NOW?"

I persevered. Finally, the blessed words I wanted to hear. One was available. But, he said, it would take a maximum of two hours to get to Manhattan. Fine, I said, not bothering to ask where he was coming from.

I set about calling the people whom I was supposed to pick up the furniture from and telling them about my plight. One was having the same trouble, and was going to be around much later than expected. The other two had people who could let me in.

I'd told the movers to meet me at one of the places from which I was to pick up some furniture, so I headed out there early, in case the movers arrived early. Naive Ini.

At 5:00, I called the mover. Yes, I'll be there soon. When? In an hour. I sighed. OK.

6:00 -- Yes, yes, I'll be there in an hour. There's a lot of traffic.

7:00 -- Yes, yes, I'm on my way. Half an hour. I'm coming from the Hamptons. The Hamptons!?!?!? I'd thought Queens, maybe Long Island!

At 7:30, I was still naively believing that they would show up at any minute.
Yes, yes. Half an hour.

At 8:00: Almost there.

At 8:30, they finally showed up, just as the first drops of rain were starting to fall.

I looked up at the sky and had a serious word with God. "You and I, we're finished," I informed him. (Spoken in frustration, of course. We're nowhere near finished, poor God!)

We rushed in, picked up the furniture, and proceeded on our way. At the second place, the roommate of the person we were picking it up from was still there, and let us in.

As we were heading to my storage unit, the phone rang. The people at the third pick-up location were ready to leave and couldn't wait anymore. Ten minutes, I promised then. We cancelled our storage unit plan and headed back downtown to cross over from east to west. We finally reached half an hour later, but the seller had mercifully left the furniture outside and gone. Picked it up, put it in the truck and headed up to my apartment. It was too late to go to the storage unit.

Picked up my stuff, tersely cut short a fight between the two movers, engaged in some spy tactics to leave the keys to the hole for its next inhabitant who hadn't shown up yet, and headed off to Jersey.

So far so good. On our way to Jersey, predictably, we got lost. This, after the mover spent half an hour intensely meditating on Mapquest directions. After driving for at least two hours -- by this time, my utter exhaustion had made me lose all concept of time -- we finally arrived at the apartment.

In my daze, as we were bumping along the NJ Turnpike, I remember one thought that occured to me: that the perfect hell would be eternal moving. Imagine dying and going to hell, and being told that you're going to spend forever moving. It's enough to make anyone behave themselves!

A bit of wrestling to get the sofa in through the window, and dumping all the other stuff in the apartment, and the movers were gone.

I stood in the middle of the clutter, smiled -- a little deliriously -- and told myself, "Welcome home, Ini. You are NEVER moving again. You will DIE in this apartment!"

And so I will, even if it kills me!