Scrapes on Stairs lifting The Matterhorn, Ties and Marble Tables
02-08-18 21:41 Moving,Anniversary
This was the week — a logistical challenge roughly equivalent to that of the June 6 invasion at Normandy. We moved from one Santa Barbara house to another. Before we began, Nazy and Tiger visited Shahrzad in Washington, DC where, in addition to the coolness of the Smithsonian and the history of the monuments (Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln, Roosevelt, but not, thank God, trump, ) and the beauty of the Potomac, they also visited the Miller farm and homestead in Strasbourg, Virginia. Tiger got to ride a tractor, feed the cows and run with Aunt Shahrzad.
Nazy and I began move preparations as soon as possible. With assiduous attention to detail, we sifted through the piles of memorabilia carefully preserving our copy of the LA Times for the day we landed on the moon while throwing out the letter that John Gwynn wrote in (enthusiastic) support of my early promotion to Associate Professor. (Enthusiastic, but written with the unwarranted assumption that readers possessed basic reasoning skills.)
As time went on, specifically as the number of days left before we had to vacate the existing space declined, we became somewhat less diligent. Sifting gave way to piling. Well packed and labeled boxes (e.g. “books: travel&rdquo
gave way to ill-defined conglomerations that brought terms like ‘tossed salad’ to mind. If anyone deigned to label such a box, the selection was usually “miscellaneous’”. (Sometimes Nazy, more literary, chose “miscellaneous and etc.&rdquo In the early days, it was easy to neatly stack the standard boxes. Later, however things began to go awry: tricycles, live plants, mops, patio umbrellas, plaster sculpture, paintings, hoes and hammers aren’t quite so stackable. Fortunately..
“.. the new place has a garage,” Nazy enthused. “We can put the awkward stuff in there.”
“Good idea,” I replied. “I hope it’s big enough,” I thought as a I carried a large bag of Iraqi Dinar (paper money) up the steep driveway at the new home.
“Wow, Dan.” Nazy said when I got to the garage. “That looks like a couple of trillion dinar. How much is it worth?”
“Around 4 cents,” I replied. “The trash can full of European coins is worth more.”
“Coins?”
“They are in that bucket,” I said, pointing. “It weighs more than you do.”
“I’m very svelte, Dan.”
“Yes. In contrast, €2 coins are more than a little corpulent.”
Every day for the last week, we thought, well okay, I thought that we would be able to return the U-Haul. Every day for the last week, I had to extend the rental. By the third day, I’d become good friends with Maya, the clerk.
“Once more, Dan?” Maya asked.
“This is the last …”
“I can make it easy for you…”
“Maya! I’m moving. You cannot make it easy for me.” I replied.
“I was going to introduce you to my fairy Godmother.”
A couple of trips later, we were back at the (old) house. It was, Nazy claimed, ‘our last trip.’ Just get the hat boxes from the top of the closet.”
Although I couldn’t quite reach one of the boxes, I found two short stools that, combined, would get me to the proper height.
“You’re not going to stand on that, Dan.” Nazy shouted as I carefully balanced the devices.
“Don’t worry, Nazy.” I replied. “I just need to get a couple of inches higher and I’ll only be on the stools for a few seconds.”
“Don’t do it Dan.” Nazy exclaimed. “You’re going to hurt yourself,” Nazy thought.
“Don’t wor…” I began. The carefully balanced stools slipped. My arm scraped the top of the closet. “I’ve hurt myself,” I thought.
“You hurt yourself.” Nazy screamed. “Does it hurt?” She asked unnecessarily.
Note to concerned readers: It hurt.
In tough negotiations with Aussie Movers, Nazy and I had bargained the transportation fees down to a (somewhat) reasonable level …
“… as long as we pack and move the small stuff,” Nazy concluded. “They’ll move the furniture.”
“Is the marble table included in this quote?” I asked. “That table weighs more than The Matterhorn,” I thought.
We discovered the difference quickly. The Aussie quote, eh, estimate was far too low. . Although they underestimated the difficulty of moving The Matterhorn,, somehow six of them (collectively) got the table up the stairs and into the dining room. The closets, on the other hand, remained in the old house. Luckily we had a little more time before we had to vacate and Melika knew someone who could help. The closets are now in the garage… unassembled.
Unfortunately, the closets weren’t the only thing that remained in the old house after the furniture had been moved. Several times we made ‘the last trip’ between the old and new house. I was, I confess, getting a bit testy. It may have been irrational but..
“I don’t want to be here,” I thought as Nazy sorted stuff from the refrigerator.
“Can you get the cat’s scratching post?” Nazy asked when she noticed me tapping my shoe.
“We don’t have a cat.” I replied.
“It’s upstairs. And replace all the LED bulbs with the old bulbs that I saved. You need to carefully wrap the seashell collection.”
“Seashell collection?” I replied. In point of fact, however, I had fond memories of those seashells — many were acquired in Manila while I was on a trip for Shell. I had a pile of local currency that couldn’t be taken out of the country and the only things that looked buyable were rare seashells. Now, however, I didn’t care.
“Why can’t we just leave all this stuff?” I thought, frowning.
“If it was up to you, Dan, we’d just leave everything.” Nazy, noting my frown, observed. “Precisely,” I thought. “Of course not,” I said.
“The movers forgot to take the cleaning supplies, Dan. Just put them in the truck. And don’t forget your ties.”
“Yes dear,” I replied. “I really don’t want to do anything more in this old house,” I thought. “I want to be fixing the new house. I want the new place to be livable. Everything we take out of this old house will simply increase the chaos at the new house. I haven’t worn a tie in the last six years,” I thought.
The good news? We’ve actually slept at the new house. More on the move in the next issue of The Weekly Letter.
Shahrzad and Tiger
While Nazy and Tiger were having fun in Washington, I had some special time with Arrow. Perhaps it would have been more special if I had learned anything from my four years as a grandfather.
“While he’s playing with the magic markers and the easel, I’ll just put a few things in boxes,” I thought. Thoughtlessly. What could possibly go wrong with an unwatched, magic marker-wielding, two year old?
Nazy and I began move preparations as soon as possible. With assiduous attention to detail, we sifted through the piles of memorabilia carefully preserving our copy of the LA Times for the day we landed on the moon while throwing out the letter that John Gwynn wrote in (enthusiastic) support of my early promotion to Associate Professor. (Enthusiastic, but written with the unwarranted assumption that readers possessed basic reasoning skills.)
As time went on, specifically as the number of days left before we had to vacate the existing space declined, we became somewhat less diligent. Sifting gave way to piling. Well packed and labeled boxes (e.g. “books: travel&rdquo
gave way to ill-defined conglomerations that brought terms like ‘tossed salad’ to mind. If anyone deigned to label such a box, the selection was usually “miscellaneous’”. (Sometimes Nazy, more literary, chose “miscellaneous and etc.&rdquo In the early days, it was easy to neatly stack the standard boxes. Later, however things began to go awry: tricycles, live plants, mops, patio umbrellas, plaster sculpture, paintings, hoes and hammers aren’t quite so stackable. Fortunately..“.. the new place has a garage,” Nazy enthused. “We can put the awkward stuff in there.”
“Good idea,” I replied. “I hope it’s big enough,” I thought as a I carried a large bag of Iraqi Dinar (paper money) up the steep driveway at the new home.
“Wow, Dan.” Nazy said when I got to the garage. “That looks like a couple of trillion dinar. How much is it worth?”
“Around 4 cents,” I replied. “The trash can full of European coins is worth more.”
“Coins?”
“They are in that bucket,” I said, pointing. “It weighs more than you do.”
“I’m very svelte, Dan.”
“Yes. In contrast, €2 coins are more than a little corpulent.”
Every day for the last week, we thought, well okay, I thought that we would be able to return the U-Haul. Every day for the last week, I had to extend the rental. By the third day, I’d become good friends with Maya, the clerk.
“Once more, Dan?” Maya asked.
“This is the last …”
“I can make it easy for you…”
“Maya! I’m moving. You cannot make it easy for me.” I replied.
“I was going to introduce you to my fairy Godmother.”
A couple of trips later, we were back at the (old) house. It was, Nazy claimed, ‘our last trip.’ Just get the hat boxes from the top of the closet.”
Although I couldn’t quite reach one of the boxes, I found two short stools that, combined, would get me to the proper height.
“You’re not going to stand on that, Dan.” Nazy shouted as I carefully balanced the devices.
“Don’t worry, Nazy.” I replied. “I just need to get a couple of inches higher and I’ll only be on the stools for a few seconds.”
“Don’t do it Dan.” Nazy exclaimed. “You’re going to hurt yourself,” Nazy thought.
“Don’t wor…” I began. The carefully balanced stools slipped. My arm scraped the top of the closet. “I’ve hurt myself,” I thought.
“You hurt yourself.” Nazy screamed. “Does it hurt?” She asked unnecessarily.
Note to concerned readers: It hurt.
In tough negotiations with Aussie Movers, Nazy and I had bargained the transportation fees down to a (somewhat) reasonable level …
“… as long as we pack and move the small stuff,” Nazy concluded. “They’ll move the furniture.”
“Is the marble table included in this quote?” I asked. “That table weighs more than The Matterhorn,” I thought.
“It’s included in the estimate, Dan.”
“What about your ‘movable’ closets?” I continued. “Nazy has more shelf space in her closets than Amazon has in all of their warehouses combined,” I thought.
“They’ve included dismantling and reassembling those as well.”
“Their estimate is too low,” I said.
“Estimate? Quote? Whats the difference?” Nazy asked.
We discovered the difference quickly. The Aussie quote, eh, estimate was far too low. . Although they underestimated the difficulty of moving The Matterhorn,, somehow six of them (collectively) got the table up the stairs and into the dining room. The closets, on the other hand, remained in the old house. Luckily we had a little more time before we had to vacate and Melika knew someone who could help. The closets are now in the garage… unassembled.
Unfortunately, the closets weren’t the only thing that remained in the old house after the furniture had been moved. Several times we made ‘the last trip’ between the old and new house. I was, I confess, getting a bit testy. It may have been irrational but..
“I don’t want to be here,” I thought as Nazy sorted stuff from the refrigerator.
“Can you get the cat’s scratching post?” Nazy asked when she noticed me tapping my shoe.
“We don’t have a cat.” I replied.
“It’s upstairs. And replace all the LED bulbs with the old bulbs that I saved. You need to carefully wrap the seashell collection.”
“Seashell collection?” I replied. In point of fact, however, I had fond memories of those seashells — many were acquired in Manila while I was on a trip for Shell. I had a pile of local currency that couldn’t be taken out of the country and the only things that looked buyable were rare seashells. Now, however, I didn’t care.
“Why can’t we just leave all this stuff?” I thought, frowning.
“If it was up to you, Dan, we’d just leave everything.” Nazy, noting my frown, observed. “Precisely,” I thought. “Of course not,” I said.
“The movers forgot to take the cleaning supplies, Dan. Just put them in the truck. And don’t forget your ties.”
“Yes dear,” I replied. “I really don’t want to do anything more in this old house,” I thought. “I want to be fixing the new house. I want the new place to be livable. Everything we take out of this old house will simply increase the chaos at the new house. I haven’t worn a tie in the last six years,” I thought.
The good news? We’ve actually slept at the new house. More on the move in the next issue of The Weekly Letter.
For last week's letter, please click here
Dan and Nazy
Anniversary Dinner 2018
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