Moving Day

8 am: Wake up, stumble down the itty bitty stairs for the last time, and see that it's snowing! For the first time this winter, the snow is sticking to the ribs of the city. Feel so happy that I don't care that it's 8 am and that this might affect plans for the whole moving thing.

9 am: After a happy snowy walk to French class, am conjugating verbs--the new teacher is walking around checking our chops. By the way, the new prof is awesome! This has nothing to do with moving day.

12 pm: Back home after French class, I stare worredly at the modest pile of boxes that we have accumulated over the past two days. Wonder if we are really moving today. Snow is melting.

1 pm: After having desultorily packed a few boxes, I make a lunch trying to use up whatever heavy canned or jarred objects we have in our shelves. This involves kidney beans, capers, and tuna fish. I continue meanwhile to pack whatever fits into the few boxes that I have at hand. Look! The plates fits perfectly in the Brita pitcher box!

2 pm: The Mister arrives for lunch. Realize the plates are packed. We eat lunch from bowls. We still have not rented or reserved any sort of moving vehicle. Wonder if we are really moving today. Decide it's not the end of the world if we have to wait until the weekend.

3 pm: Pack most of contents of wardrobes into suitcases, and throw bathroom soaps and shampoos and things into plastic bags. Decide we have too many bottles of shampoo.

4 pm: Undergo a futon-wrapping exercise that involves wrapping an entire, very heavy mattress in a big sheet of plastic and lots of packing tape. Am proud of self.

5 pm: M comes home just after Polish neighbor rings at door. Polish neighbor has been hired to help us move. We like him very much, especially after he stopped being drunk and sketchy all the time. M has gotten tip from co-worker regarding Taxi Vert, a truck service that works like a taxi (and tip was suggested by moi! as he was leaving from lunch I said "ask about Taxi Vert!). M calls Taxi Vert.

5:15: Taxi Vert number 1 arrives. Driver comes into apartment and says No Way José. But in French. He has a very small taxi vert. We need a very big one. He will send a big one.

5:16: I am throwing the entire contents of my desk into whatever containers I can locate. I find myself putting the following inside of a baseball hat (a free gift from the inn where we honeymooned): two decks of cards, four coasters, a pair of goggles, the keys to our apartment in Barcelona, two boxes of matches, and two half-used tealights. (I know because I just looked. These things are still inside of said baseball cap.)

5:20: Taxi Vert number 2 arrives. This is a humongous truck, complete with driver, into which will fit all of our worldly belongings. It even has an elevator! It is raining. I guess we really are moving today!

5:30: I am throwing the rest of our clothing into random piles and bags so as to empty the furniture, because M and the Polish neighbor and the Spanish neighbor and the Taxi Vert driver are taking furniture away as quickly as I can clear it of random items. The house is emptying more quickly than I had thought possible.

6 pm: There is still tons of room in the Taxi Vert, so everybody is grabbing anything they can find. I have to yell at them not to take piles of clothing that are still not packaged in any form whatsoever, and the computer bag and my purse and the broken stuff that's going to be thrown away.

6:30: I am in the Polish neighbor's tiny car. He doesn't know how to get to our new house, but we ride off into the city. I manage to direct him there and not get hit by a tram car. I like talking with the Polish neighbor, because his French is as bad as mine.

7 pm: Almost everything is out of the moving van. The vestibule is filled with our stuff. I am embarrassed about our random belongings and bags of shampoo sitting there. While the boys unload the van, I have started to carry things up to the fourth floor (third floor in European, but let's not fool ourselves). I am already huffing and puffing and sweating and trudging.

7:15: I meet a new neighbor. He says he is quite new as well. He has a dog who is very fat with short legs and is climbing up the stairs slower than I am. I am relieved to have an excuse to climb more slowly.

7:30: We are happy that we have a Polish neighbor, because he is carrying some really heavy things by himself all the way up the stairs. M and him together carry the really really heavy things and I have to NOT look because I am convinced something is going to tip over and cause a scene of great carnage.

7:45: We are all sweating a lot. We are moving. I find myself becoming very familiar with the stains on every step of the stairs. My favorite is the one that means I am almost to the top. I am glad it is not August.

8 pm: All of our things are, miraculously, inside of our new apartment! We thank the Polish neighbor profusely and pay him a lot extra and say goodbye. We have Moved!