How to Survive a Move - Part 4
Hindsight being 20/20, this blog series should have been titled “Will I Survive the Move,” not “How to Survive a Move.” It occurs to me now, that no matter how planned, packed and organized one is, moving without the help of professionals never goes 100% according to plan. There are always problems …including nearly backing out of our lease.
The Day Before
Last Friday, I took the afternoon off to meet the landlord for keys. I was super jazzed, blasting music with my windows down, my car filled to the brim with belongings. Pulling up to the unit, I was barely able to contain my excitement. However, as I approached the steps of the new place, I noticed a sound I hadn’t heard before: a small dog in the unit below mine was barking his little heart out.
Living in the city comes with the expectation of an assortment of noises. Sirens, cars honking, airplanes, trains and ambient human noises are sounds I have come to love. And while both Josh and I love dogs, small dog yaps—well—they just don’t fall into that category. As the landlord walked me up and through the unit, I kept expecting it to stop. It didn’t.
I walked outside and began to cry. My perfect apartment was going to be a nightmare. Josh, who needs a quiet place to read and write would go crazy with the sound during the day. Not wanting to ask the downstairs neighbor to get rid of her dog, I called the landlord and begged to be let out of our lease.
Friday night, while Josh and I were lounging around in sadness in our brimming with boxes tiny duplex-cage of an apartment, the new landlord called us back with good news. The downstairs neighbor felt horrible and had no idea her little foster pup was so troubled while she was gone. A bark collar and a dozen apologies later (from both her and us) and the move was back on.
The Day Of
Last week I was positive we would be moving in the middle of the night because we couldn’t locate an available moving truck. Luckily, after some persistent phone calls and negotiation, we managed to find and rent a moving truck for 7am.
After a restless slumber, we awoke at 5am on a perfect, sunny and temperate Saturday morning to pick up the truck. Our three friends showed up around 9am to help. In about two hours’ time we had the majority of our belongings in the moving truck and the old apartment swept and cleaned. We had tons of energy to spare and felt fairly confident about our ability to get everything offloaded and into the new place swiftly. Unfortunately, we forgot about the stairs.
Anyone who has moved into an old second floor apartment in St. Louis could tell you tales of woe about getting furniture up the very narrow stairwells. Being up above the city certainly has its charm, but getting furniture up the aforementioned steps isn’t the easiest. Thanks to Josh and my good friend Mike, we managed to get even the most oddly-shaped weighty items up the stairs and into the new place.
My FitBit informed me that I walked just over 23,000 steps and climbed a punishing 50 flights of stairs on Saturday. My body would tend to agree with those metrics. After unpacking the kitchen, bedroom, bathroom and living room on Sunday, I started to come down with a wicked chest cold. I am not alone. Out of the 5 of us involved with the move, 4 of us are sick.
Looking back on the experience, I am infinitely grateful for all of the advice, help and pep talks from my coworkers, friends and family. Sure there were some unforeseen snags and hiccups that we didn’t anticipate, but what move would be complete without them? In just the few days we have been living here, both Josh and I are super happy even as we wallow in sickness. It’s HUGE, beautiful, bright, and in the heart of a city we have come to love and call home.