I hate moving.
Of course, it is difficult to find someone willing to say they actually LIKE moving, so I'm certain it is no surprise to you that I hate moving.
Moving requires planning, organization and hard work. None of these are positive action words in my life.
However, given enough motivation, I will do what needs to be done. I have moved. I am now a resident of the State of New Jersey.
Last night I was admiring the view from my living room window. I have an unobstructed view and can see literally for at least 20 miles. I can see downtown Elizabeth, the lights of the Gothels Bridge which connects New Jersey and Staten Island. I also see the flame at the top of a tall tower in the distance. I assume this is an oil refinery. Ah, home.
I actually like the view. I spend a lot of time looking out the window. That is likely because the apartment itself is piled with boxes. Cardboard boxes, all labeled "misc.". It is possible I am allergic to cardboard. Every time I come near it I suddenly feel the need to take a nap. I have taken a lot of naps.
The first wave of the move happened a week ago Saturday. The moving truck was scheduled to arrive at 8:00 A.M. I had spent the previous week preparing for their arrival. Mostly this preparation consisted of going to the local UHaul dealer to purchase boxes. I had purchased boxes from UHaul several times in my life. It is a standard process. You go to this small store, where they also rent trucks and install hitches, and you pick out the boxes you think you are going to need. There are at least a dozen different sizes and types. The exception appears to be this UHaul dealer.
I found this place by going to UHaul.com. The store was listed as being the closest. It is a good thing I did this, because if I were simply looking for this place while driving I would have never found it. It looks like a junkyard from the street. The only thing that identifies it as an UHaul outlet was a small portable sign placed on the sidewalk. Even the trucks waiting to be rented don't say UHaul. The first time I found the store I didn't to stop. First, it didn't look open and second; the neighborhood did not appear to be "hick" friendly.
I made a second attempt the next day, when I had plenty of sunlight. Even then, the place didn't look open. The store consists of a shack, with dirty (filthy) windows. When I entered, there were four customers ahead of me. The clerk was watching "Speed Racer" on a small portable TV. As I stood there, four other customers entered the store. After a time of waiting, some of the customers left unserved. This appears to be the store policy. If you make people wait long enough eventually they will leave and bother somebody else.
When it became my turn I was directed to the selection of boxes. They had two choices, large and small. There were no boxes for electronic equipment. No china boxes. No boxes for framed art. Just large and small. I took several of each. The price? It appears the fellow made up the price in his head. There was no cash register or adding machine. I got my boxes. I was happy. The IRS will have to take my word for the cost.
When I moved from Syracuse to Rochester in 1989 I had saved a lot of the boxes. I used them when I moved from Rochester to Queens. I used them again moving to New Jersey. Most of the boxes say "kitchen, living room, bedroom, cat toys". Therefore, they are all now "misc.".
Having obtained boxes I set to the task of packing. You would think I don't have much to pack. I'm a single man living in a closet. You would be wrong. I possess my grandmother's china, which she received as a wedding gift in the 1920's. It was old when she got it. I packed each piece carefully. While doing so I mumbled a great deal about the foolishness of having unpacked it in the first place. What in the world was I going to do with a set of china for 12 in an apartment that wouldn't STAND six adults, let alone have them sit down for dinner?
After the china I packed the books. I have read half of the books. The other half is on my list of things to read. The read books I am keeping because they are mostly textbooks from my graduate program in counseling. I continue to believe I will refer to these books some day.
Next came the biggest packing problem, the kitchen. I went to bed. It was 2:30 A.M. Saturday morning. I gave up.
The moving truck arrived on time, darn it. On-board were three young men. Adam was driving. Adam is from Australia. He moves furniture nine months of the year. He surfs in Australia for three months a year. Brian is an artist. He attended a SUNY school for six and half years, majoring in art. He then dropped out. Those of us in the world of Financial Aid Administration refer to Brian as a SAP problem. And finally, there was Hector. Hector swears he saw me as an actor in a movie recently. I gave up trying to deny it.
In New York City you pay movers by the hour. I was paying $98.00 an hour. My plan was to help them load the truck, to save money. After about 30 minutes I realized that this was not saving me money. I was in the way. These three men had a routine, and I wasn't part of it. I waited downstairs in the "deli" with Mohammed, staying out of the way. It took them four hours to load the truck. At one point I entered the apartment to see how they were doing. Brian was packing the kitchen. He was quick and efficient. It had never occurred to me to simply wrap the unwashed dishes that were in the sink and put them in a box.
At 2:00 P.M. the big truck arrived at the apartment in New Jersey. They brought everything up to my 11th floor apartment. And there it sits. I've done some settling in. The kitchen is unpacked. The TV works. The cable guy has visited. I hung a shower curtain. I'm set. Granted, the apartment is decorated in Early American UHaul. So what?
I'm working on one box at a time. At this rate I should be completely unpacked in two years.
The cats are thrilled. Calvin likes the freshly waxed wood floors. I hear him "skating" in the early morning. Hobbes likes the boxes. She finds spots among them to hide from Calvin. Both of them get to sit in the windows and watch the world from a completely different perspective.
The kitchen sink drain runs a little slow. I need to leave the super, Santos, a note. It is nice to have a super. It is also nice to have a real apartment, with air conditioning, significant water pressure and screens on the windows.
So, that is the update from the Big City.
As a side note, if you watch HBO's Sex in the City, the first scene this week had the four main characters eating lunch in a park. That is Bryant Park and is in front of my office building.
