that was the fun way to do it

Having cool friends garthered around the kitchen table, eating spaghetti, gave me warm and fuzzies about moving to to the northern suburbs. (Even if, eeks, this makes me a suburbanite.) The house is now sooooooooo much more manageable-- I just have to kick some little stuff out of the way and I'll be ready for the movers. Thanks to quietann, deguspice, marmota, candle_light, drbitch, frotz, and koshmom for coming over last night and carrying a great volume of stuff from the sitting room out towards the peripheral rooms of the house! I had been seriously stressing out about the crap pile, but in the course of one fun evening, the problem was cut down to manageable size. Yay!

assertiveness training

Today I was not such a wussie wimp in dealing with the landlord and his flunkies.

Today's agenda was to walk from work to the old apartment, get my bicycle out of the garage, and ride it back to work. At this point I'd rather trust anything of mine to a public bike rack than to the domain of our soon-to-be-ex landlord. When I got to the house, I kinda had to pee; I've been trying to drink as much water as possible because my OB is so worried about UTI issues. So I sauntered in, and headed for the guest room which has a bathroom off of it. Landlord's flunky was there, and called out after me "hey, you can't go in there! You'll ruin the floor!" I looked in, and the floor of the guest room is still gleaming wet and sticky from the stuff they put on to finish it. I thought I could hop from the kitchen floor into the bathroom if I held onto the doorframe, but nope, it's too far, I would have had to be a spider to pull that off.

I wound up yelling at the landlord's flunky: "You find me a place to go to the bathroom! I paid to live here through August thirty-first, that entitles me to take a piss, the absolute minimum of human habitation!" They let me into the upstairs neighbor's place to use the bathroom, but sheesh, in what sense have we not been completely thrown out of this apartment before the end of the lease?

(no subject)

Picking up some plastic containers from the old place turned out to be a much bigger deal than expected.

The plan was to take a final pass at moving out of the kitchen this evening. The rest of the house was emptied out before the floor sanders started working on Monday, but the kitchen was supposed to be the one place our stuff could stay. We had removed our big things from the kitchen, and I had packed up very obviously useful stuff such as dishes and metro shelving, but we hadn't gone over the kitchen in detail. Going back tonight was to give Sweetie a chance to look over the unmatched dishes and odds-and-ends that I hadn't packed to see if any of it had sentimental value; and then, after Soc had taken whatever he wanted, to grab a load of stuff which, while all totally replaceable, there was no sense in wasting-- plastic storage containers, paper plates, plastic forks, paper towels, cleaning supplies, tea bags, coffee filters etc., plus whatever booze left in the bar Sweetie thought was worth keeping. (I sure didn't know what booze to pack and what to throw away, I tend to regard hard liquor a waste of good brain cells, better expended drinking wine.)

We got there and 1) everything in the kitchen had been dumped, helter-skelter, into boxes and dragged to the garage, and 2) the apartment door lock had been changed. Sweetie was furious. I was ready to say oh screw the plastic containers and walk away from the whole mess, but he wasn't going to take this lying down. He actually called the cops; calling the cops prompted the landlord to relent and let us back into the kitchen. Fortunate, since Soc's expensive wine collection was still inside the house.

Poor Soc, he's going to have to sort through the pile in the garage and separate out the junk we had intended to leave from the stuff he had packed up move. They mixed it all together into a huge overwhelming mess.