We are (almost) moved in. The movers came on Tuesday, two Estonians named Ingos and Ingos. They arrived in a Penske rental truck, like a couple of guys we’d hired from the Home Depot parking lot instead of the licensed, bonded, insured moving company we’d been promised. A says they were both very nice – apparently big Ingos apologized for the condition of our stuff (crushed boxes, covered in bird crap) and said ABM was terrible. On the whole, it could have been much worse, but the headache and hassle wasn’t worth the $500 or so we ended up saving.
Tag: bicoastal
Spandex is not Armor
I’m beginning to think that New Yorkers are a certain type of suicidal.
We went to Long Island to take a look at wedding venues this morning. The drive out took aroundt two hours. The drive back took almost four. The first accident was at exit 64, an overturned Jeep with the roof torn off. According to Google Maps, it happened sometime around 3:30. They didn’t unblock the lanes until almost two hours later. We passed another accident somewhere around exit 30 on our side of the highway, and there were at least another two accidents on the east-bound side.
An Object at Rest
I moved into the apartment today. My dad unexpectedly took a few days off work, so I didn’t have to wait for a car to be free over the weekend. It was strangely reminiscent of driving down to Florida for college with him, with a few key differences. For one, the car wasn’t quite as loaded. We could actually see out the back windshield this time. For another, dad took the first shift driving. Last time we almost wiped out about ten miles from the house. A car had stalled out in the far right lane, and I didn’t react in time to switch lanes. We ended up a few hundred feet behind it, waiting for a chance to merge over, and almost got rear-ended by a giant suv that pulled into the next lane at the last minute. My dad’s never really forgotten that one.
You Get What You Pay For
We were supposed to have moved in today. If everything had gone according to plan, I would now be typing this in our new apartment, having spent the day supervising movers and starting to unpack boxes. Instead, I’m in the guest bedroom at my parent’s house (my bedroom having long since been taken over by the Munchkin), trying to adjust to Eastern time and wondering exactly when I’ll make it to New York.