I’m in the process of moving. Well, I’m mostly done. My roommate at my old place recommended movers to me. They were coming for his stuff on Wednesday morning. And they said they’d come back right after they finished to pick up my stuff. Except…they didn’t do that.
They decided to do another job first before coming back for me. So they left with my roommate’s stuff at 10:30 am. And I waited around and around. Heard nothing from anyone. Finally at 2 pm I called the mover. No answer. Then I called my roommate. Straight to voice mail. Called the mover again. No answer.
By this point, I started to imagine that the moving van had tumbled over a bridge. I started to worry. I decided to text the movers. I’d learned that they were from Russia, though, and that they were in the States learning English. So I wasn’t sure if they’d even be able to understand my text message. But they did. And they were fine. And they showed up finally at 5:30 pm.
Oh, yeah. So I’m mostly done moving. But yesterday I swung by the old place to grab some odds and ends. I threw a whole random load of stuff inside of a green laundry bag–a trashcan, some books, a full unopened can of Chock Full o’ Nuts coffee (dark roast), a green and orange winter vest jacket. By the time I was done throwing stuff in the bag, it got kind of heavy. But the kind of heavy where you don’t realize how heavy it is until you’ve been carrying it for a few blocks.
And I had to go straight to work from my apartment. With this big, unwieldy bag. And then after work, six hours later, at 2 o’clock in the morning, I had to get this bag across town (five avenues and a few blocks), onto a subway, off of a subway, onto a shuttle bus, off of a shuttle bus, and up half a block.
When I got off the shuttle bus, I was about to cross the street with my big grab bag of stuff, and I had a walk signal, but this guy on a bike didn’t know that. And he saw another bus approaching the intersection, so he started yelling at me, “Honey, watch out! Honey, watch out!” But I just kept walking. And then he realized the walk signal and it was awkward because we looked at each other and I wanted to say ‘thank you’, but I was already kind of far away. And the moment was gone.
But that was nice of him… Even though I don’t typically like being called ‘honey’ by strangers at 2 am.
The one downside to moving is that I used to get a free magazine meant for someone with my same last name. His first name is Ricardo and he lived on the 6th floor, but not anymore, so they saw my last name on the 3rd floor and gave me his mail. I’ll miss Ricardo’s mail.