Moving Sucks

I hate it that now that I’m a grown up, weekends just mean more work! Ugh.

This weekend we have to get our tiny hovel into ship-shape for prospective tenant viewing—even though no one is going to want to rent the place seeing it so jammed full of our stuff. Every nook and cranny is filled to capacity. We’re not pack rats, we simply have only three dinky closets and hardly any cupboards. If our landlord shows the place to anyone remotely claustrophobic, they will run screaming out the front door. The place is just not appropriate for double occupancy, you know? Every day when Hubby and I are home together we are continuously squeezing around each other like we’re sharing an airplane toilet.

I’m excited as hell to move, but damn it all, it’s so much work! Last time we moved it was a fucking disaster so we have to RE-pack so much of our shit that was packed poorly then. We have boxes stuffed with random papers, newspapers, even some garbage! Hubby was working a lot of overtime and I couldn’t get enough done on my own—the place was a mess and I was trying to clean as I packed but I was getting behind instead of ahead. Then we had read the lease agreement wrong: it stated that we needed to be out by noon on the day BEFORE the last day of the lease, and this bit I caught late in the day on the day we were supposed to have been out!

Well, we weren’t anywhere near finished, and I didn’t have any help so we were still there the next day. The caretaker showed up at ten a.m. to check us out, but we were only halfway done because we just had a pickup truck and no helpers. I called my friend and begged her to help us, so she begrudgingly came over and helped us clean, but complained the whole time—within earshot of the caretaker who ended up using it against us. Meanwhile the caretaker and the woman from the apartment next door (who was taking our apartment and was told she could move in early) decided to “help” us by chucking our shit, unpacked, out into the hall or down to the street. THIS is how we ended up with boxes full of junk.

Plus those assholes charged us two days of rent, and even though we cleaned, because my friend was bitching about the messiness, we were charged for TEN HOURS of cleaning by the new tenant! Are you kidding me?? Our damage deposit was already being withheld because we couldn’t afford the last month’s rent, so we were assessed a bill. When we paid it off, we celebrated and shouted, “Bye-bye Bebe you bitch!” several times. She was the building owner who lived in a four million dollar mansion just outside Boston, MA with her rich international business management husband and did absolutely NO upkeep in the buildings she owned. In fact, the caretakers only received a $300 dollar monthly discount on their rent, and that $300 was to go to monthly maintenance—for a 25 unit building! Anything extra came out of the caretaker’s pocket. We couldn’t afford the place so we paid in installments every payday, but we weren’t paying any other bills, using Hubby’s credit cards for necessities and getting food from Hubby’s parents.

From this shithole building we moved in with my ex-stepdad/friend of the family for the summer—and thank goodness for him! But during this time all our crap was in storage and we just dragged it with us to this place. Now it’s in the dark, dank, cobwebby basement. Who wants to spend a beautiful weekend in a cruddy basement storage locker?? I know you didn’t just tell me to bring it upstairs and sort through it in the living room! I just TOLD you there’s not even enough room for two people, much less for two people, stacks of boxes, and an organizational sorting project!! Man, I’m just going to take it out into the yard. I mean, the papers are going to just be recycled, and we need to sort out our books and stick the donations right into the van… I can get all my shit done and get a tan too!