( 9:14 PM ) teahouse
Still in Transit
The move was a lesson in stress and cynicism.
I moved during the worst 8-day period of pouring rain in New York City's recent history.
It took the movers 9 hours to pack up and move my stuff. The weather made everything worse.
After everything was loaded into their truck, they headed over to my new place, and the Boy and I caught a cab and headed over.
We almost collided with a huge truck that suddenly pulled in front of our cab on W. 57th Street.
For a moment, I was afraid it was my moving truck. I thought to myself, "Wouldn't it be ironic, to get killed by my own stuff?"
But it wasn't. It was a UPS truck. Whew.
The Super in my new building is extremely evil. He complained that the movers were moving too slowly; threatened us with fines if we scratched up any of the walls or floors.
He basically stood there and bitched while my poor movers ran back and forth from the truck in the pouring rain.
At the Boy's suggestion, I greased him and each of the doormen ($20 for him and $10 for each of them) to make a good first impression on the people who run my building, and have the power to make my life miserable or easy.
It really made me feel icky to have to do that. But I guess it's the way of the world. And of the big city.
The Super has done all sorts of other horrible things, which I won't get into now. I'll save them for another day, after my internet is back up (Verizon is telling me not until October 24!)
For now, I'm posting from the Boy's place, I've dug a tunnel through the boxes in my apartment, and I'm exploring my new neighborhood.
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