The move
The day has finally arrived, the truck is standing out on the driveway and the guys are waiting for the go ahead. My nerves are shot, this moving thing is stressful. What happens if I don’t like it there? The people that I have come into contact with seem nice and hopefully there are not too many neighbourhood children to make a noise. My book is at a crucial point, I cannot afford any disruptions now. My editor, the nag!! Is on my case again, I have kept up with his schedule, but as usual, nothing makes him happy. Fortunately for me, the flat is on the fifth floor and I don’t have to carry anything but my laptop and notes. The joys of watching others work. Maybe I will lend a hand, can’t have them breaking my glassware. I am not a grouch, but I don’t have the time or the inclination to have to go out and buy new things. I choose my items carefully and try not to make any spontaneous decisions when getting things for the house.
They seem to be getting on nicely, I have not heard any crashing sounds. Mom is in the living room and seems to be directing traffic, so they don’t take her stuff too. It’s not that complicated... Mom has the antiques and my stuff is well... the nice fresh modern furniture or can’t they tell the difference. Boy, they like a termite nest, constantly on the go. I am not complaining, the faster the better.
Well, we seem to be off, just follow me and we should be fine, it’s not like I am trekking across the country, just downtown, or should I rather say into town. This suburban lifestyle is not for me, too much family living and the whole white picket fence cliche. I am more the lock up and off we go type. When I need something for my book, I hop on a train and go investigate. The joys of not having a nine to five.
The driver seems to be on board, following me at a safe distance, over the stop street and down the hill and we here. Oh look, mom is tailing the truck, she is probably scared they going to do a midway drop off. They seem pretty reliable. Bet she wants to come show me where everything must go, and how to lay out my furniture.
Well, this is my first apartment. Clean, crisp and newly built. Sounds good to me. Open plan living with a view of the cityscapes. Five floors up, not bad, would have like to be higher, but that is just out of my price range, give it a year or two and I will be on the top floor. That view is actually what I am after, sitting on the balcony with a cup of coffee, and a book in hand. Ok, writing my next one.
I’m in. Let’s try not to fall over the boxes, I did say put them in the lounge and I will sort them out from there, not mean in the doorway, though. They in at least, and I did not have to haul it up the stairs. The flat is close to the lift, and as luck would have it, so is my parking bay.
Where to start?? Good question! I found the kettle and the coffee, so we starting on the right footing, so find cups and then we can get cracking. Mom is upstairs hanging the curtains she brought with, I don’t know why I would need curtains...the entire flat has blinds, simple. Anyway, she wants to help. That is how things go, being the baby of the family. It has its perks, but can also be a ball and chain.
