Becoming Homeless, or How I Stopped Worrying and Managed to Get Free Movers

Yeehawing in our U-Haul

When I first got the news that I'd be going to Scotland, the first thought that popped into my head was, "Yippeeee!". The second was "Wait, do they have bibimbap in Glasgow?" (they don't) and the third, "Fuck. I don't want to move."

So for a little while, in spite of all the hand-flapping and beaming and proclamations of "When I get to Scotland I'm totally gonna be the female version of Mel Gibson in Braveheart!!!!", I secretly still had my heels dug into the ground. You see, I had just moved in with the boy seven months ago. In that time we painted the entire place anew, picked out a few pieces of furniture together, arranged the electronics to our liking, and were generally having a swell time living there. The condo was our comfy, cheery little nest in this great big city. The thought of disassembling everything, boxing it all up and shoving the contents of our happy place into a soulless storage unit was enough to make me reconsider the assignment altogether.

But then as soon as I got back from winter vacation, I told myself to put my on my big girl panties, count my blessings (you're going to Scotland, butthead) and start packing.

The silver lining of packing is that it forces you to prune each and every one of your possessions. Old jewelry and bags, 5k t-shirts, bell-bottom jeans, cute-but-horribly-painful-stilettos, my Aragorn action figurine, books from college...I found it surprisingly easy to forgo feelings of sentimental value, dismiss wonderings of "Maybe one day I'll use/wear/read this..." and toss a good amount of my things into the donation pile. Still, despite filling many bags with items to give away, the boy and I still managed to amass a fairly substantial amount of boxes and furniture to put into storage. Questions like "Whose idea was it to buy a cement coffee table again?" and "Why do I have four different hair brushes?" were asked, but the world may never know the answers to them.

Somewhere along the way we made the decision to not hire movers. After all, we were two young and relatively fit people, the move didn't require going up and down stairs, and the freight elevator in our building was rented out for a solid 3-hour block anyway. We figured we'd just take our time, save some money and get in a good workout. 

All of that logic seemed sound until moving day arrived last Saturday. We both woke up feeling tired - the boy from his last week on the client site and me from coming down with a cold, it was 10 degrees Fahrenheit outside, and the stacks of cardboard boxes suddenly seemed like they'd tripled in quantity overnight. I began to feel quite stupid as I stared at it all. Should we have hired movers after all? Were we in over our heads?

There wasn't time to ponder this for long as we were on a tight schedule. So we carried on with the day's plan. We rode the L up to Fullerton to pick up our U-Haul and navigated back very slowly and carefully, wary of the icy roads and the extra width our fatass truck required. We pulled up to the loading area of our condo building at 11:50 AM, exactly ten minutes before our time slot for the elevator was due to begin. I hopped out to help the boy bring the U-Haul into reverse when I was approached by a distressed-looking couple.

"Hey there - are you the ones who are moving in today from noon to three?"

"Moving out, but yes - we have that time slot."

"Ok, uh well, we're the ones who rented out the freight elevator from 9 AM until noon. And well, our movers reaaaally messed up their timing... and they are just showing up now."

"Oh?"

"Yeah...so - we were sorta wondering - do you think we could share the freight elevator and both move in at this time? We're only on the fourth floor."

What? Was I on candid camera? This was an absurd request. We had paid the building's $150 fee to have exclusive use of the freight elevator from 12 to 3 PM, just as they had for the morning slot. We also had a strict deadline to meet for unload at the storage unit that evening. And we were already tight on time with just the two of us moving a Mt. Everest of cardboard. Sharing the only freight elevator - the biggest bottleneck of the moving process - was out of the question.

However, I had been hit with the case of the cannot-say-nos and could only sputter. "I - uh - well - er -" 

Meanwhile, the boy was still in the U-Haul, which was still jutting diagonally across the street, and was frantically mouthing "No no no no" and shaking his head. I got the hint, gathered my wits about me and turned to the couple. 

"Sorry to hear your movers are so late, that stinks. Unfortunately, we're on a tight schedule and cannot share the elevator with you during our move." They looked defeated but nodded like that was the answer they were expecting to hear and walked away. I got back to the task on hand of directing the truck.

A few minutes later, just as the boy had finished backing our U-Haul into the loading area, 4th floor couple's movers pulled up their enormous Penske truck and seemed confused as to why there was already another truck in the loading space. Some mass confusion ensued between the two trucks, two doormen who were rotating shifts, 4th floor couple, the two movers who were three hours late, and the boy and me. After a few minutes of chaos, the boy and I said to the group:

"Here's the situation. You have ten minutes left on your 9 AM to 12 PM elevator slot. Technically your truck should be here and not ours for the next ten minutes, but I think we can all agree that it'd a waste of time to switch them out to unload ten minutes' worth of furniture from your truck." Nods all around.

"We have a tight deadline and want to move out as quickly as possible. We're not willing to share the elevator, but we think we'll be done in less than three hours and would be happy to give whatever time we have left to you in our slot." 4th floor couple brightened upon hearing this. Not all hope was lost - maybe they could still move in today after all.

At this point we paused and looked deliberately at the two movers who have just showed up three hours late for their gig. "But...it's just the two of us moving. It'd go a lot faster if we had some help." 

Before I go on, let me pause and describe the two movers. We'll call them Tweedledee and Tweedledum. Tweedledee was heavyset and had a tattoo of a dollar sign on his face. Tweedledum was older with white hair, thin as a rail, and looked like he'd escaped from a retirement home to make some sweet side cash. 

Tweedledee picked up on the hint and immediately leaned in, all cool and hush-hush. "Well, ya know, we could help take care of you, as long as you help take care of us, ya know? Throw twenty or thirty bucks our way?"

Now 4th floor couple went from looking miserable to angry. Their movers showed up three hours late, brought on all of this confusion, and were now trying to do business with another group of tenants. The boy and I glanced at each other, knowing that we ultimately had the upper hand in the situation. 

"We'll think about it," we said lightly before walking away from the group and heading up to our unit to prepare the first load for the elevator.

Not five minutes passed before Tweedledee and Tweedledum appeared in our condo and announced that they were here to help us move, at no cost. Golly, how generous.

And so the move began. I barely did much beyond give instructions and move some of the lighter boxes and items. Most of my attempts to help were thwarted with "Here, let me get that for you, missy"s. Truth be told, things probably did go faster when I was out of the way; Tweedledee proved to be an ox and was able to lift heavy boxes I could barely budge with enviable ease. I felt like I should've put on a bathrobe and waltzed around with a flute of champagne. 

So that is the story of how we managed to score free movers and load all our shit into the U-Haul from our 30th floor unit in just over an hour's worth of time. Sounds pretty awesome - and for the most part it really was, except for the fact that Tweedledee and Tweedledum's motivation was to get us moved out as quickly as possible, not necessarily as well. As a result of their speedy handling, a few pieces of furniture were scratched along the way. I'm also not too optimistic about the state of the contents of a few boxes marked 'fragile'. Despite their rough work, we left a generous tip to show our appreciation - labor is still labor and we were much better off with their assistance than otherwise. I just won't be calling the company they work for, All My Sons, the next time I'm moving in the Chicagoland area. Something tells me 4th floor couple won't be calling them either.

After the hard part was finished, the rest of the move was as smooth as a baby's bottom. The boy's brother arrived in town in time to accompany us out on the drive to Elgin where our storage unit awaited. We were in good spirits and still had plenty of energy so unloading the truck into our 14x10 only took about an hour and a half. Ravenous and feeling accomplished, we wrapped everything up just as the sun was disappearing, put our trucker hats back on, and drove our now-empty U-Haul to the nearest well-Yelped Mexican restaurant, where we rewarded ourselves with a feast of tacos.

The boy and I have been shacking up at his brother's ever since Saturday. It feels weird and liberating to have most of my worldly possessions locked up far far away. The world is my oyster and I'm ready to take it on - now with a lot less baggage!

2013 Resolution Report Card and 2014 Resolutions

Last year, I resolved to:

1.) Stop losing all my shit all the time.

I did not come close to achieving this resolution. In 2013 I continued to lose all my shit all the time. Perhaps even at a higher rate than before, e.g. I managed to lose four different different CamelBak Eddy water bottles within the span of five months. Grade: F

2.) Run a half marathon. 

I ran the Chi Town half marathon and came in under my goal time of two hours! But then I got plantar fasciitis in my foot from improper training and hobbled around for a week afterwards. Grade: A-

3.) Re-discover my love for reading. 

I purchased a Kindle, which was definitely a step in the right direction. Having an e-reader certainly made reading more pleasant, especially after the FAA began permitting gate-to-gate use of PEDs. I wouldn't say I became completely re-enamored with reading, but I certainly enjoyed my fair share of some standout titles in 2013, including:

Dune by Frank Herbert
The Selfish Gene by Richard Dawkins

The Name of the Wind and The Wise Man's Fear, both by Patrick Rothfuss

Switch by Chip and Dan Heath

I'm currently reading Paths of Glory by Jeffrey Archer (it's fairly good) which was a Christmas gift, and next on the queue are What Einstein Told His Cook: Kitchen Science Explained and The Art of Raising a Puppy. Then I'll get to the half dozen that are still awaiting on my Kindle. Grade: B

As for 2014, I'd like to:

1.) Think and act more positively. Life's too short to constantly be bemoaning about this, complaining about that, or feeling bummed for extended periods of time about whatnot. When shit happens, as it invariably will, I plan to get over it by finding the silver lining or finding a way to laugh about it.

2.) Floss every day. My dentist greatly supports this resolution.

3.) Travel to ten countries that I haven't been to before. Sounds quite ambitious, but should be feasible if I'm frolicking about in the UK. Spain, I am coming for you and your tasty tasty paella.

There you have it, three new goals to kick off the new year. I'm feeling quite excited for what's in store for 2014!

Adventures in the minus forties

Two days ago, doomsday arrived in Chicago. Fun fact: at -40 degrees, you don't even need to specify Celsius or Fahrenheit, for at this godforsaken temperature they are one and the same.

I was lucky in that both the boy and I had the option to work from home. We were not so lucky in that a few weeks ago, we'd scheduled a biometrics appointment (part of the UK visa process where they collect our fingerprints and whatnot) for this very day. I still remember us booking the appointment and enthusiastically declaring, "How about the first Monday of January! Smashing! Fantastic!" and toasting each other's hot beverages and chuckling heartily about how we were being so clever and soooo proactive, when in reality and unbeknownst to us, we'd chosen the day when hell froze over for our 10:00 AM appointment.

Anyhow, the deed was done and we embarked on our 40-minute trip out in the cold, the vast majority of which was spent on a CTA bus (thank goodness). Up until now I'd been secretly nursing somewhat of a terrible suspicion that the immigrations office was going to be closed, but I didn't want to be negative (new year's resolution) and just went with it. Plus there wasn't a phone number to double check as immigrations offices function like it's the year 1850.

Well, after much ado involving squeaky snow and frozen hair, we arrived at the office. And turned the door handle and stepped in. We immediately heard multiple alarms. "Front entrance compromised. Police alerted. Back entrance compromised. Police alerted." etc etc. A quick scan of the room showed a very empty and closed-looking office space and an equally confused person standing a few feet away who also had a morning appointment. Then another person came in from his car and explained that the office was closed today, but for whatever reason the entrances/doors had been left open, and anytime a unknowing innocent person with an appointment opened one, it would trigger the alarm system and police would show up. Apparently they'd come once that morning already.

So, that trip was equal parts disappointing and confusing. But the silver lining was that we were in a neighborhood full of Vietnamese restaurants. We proceeded to drown our sorrows in pho and fried rice.

All bundled up.

After our bellies were sufficiently warmed and we had regained feeling in our toes, the boy took another brief trek back to the immigrations office with equally depressing results (nobody there, alarm still going off) and we hopped back onto the bus.

On the way back I ended up swiping my Ventra pass for the boy and a stranger in addition to for myself. Both of their passes/credit cards were not being recognized by the scanner, neither had singles on them, and the CTA bus driver was not being sympathetic to their cases (in his defense, he was probably following the rules of his job). I also saw another girl try to board the bus and scan her pass, only to have it not work either; she hopped off and the bus driver drove off before anyone could offer to pay for her. By the end of the bus ride I was pretty put out with Ventra (and took my complaints to Twitter, naturally). How many people were denied a bus ride on a day like this because of their systems not working?

We spent the rest of the day working from home, drinking tea, pouring and observing water freeze on our balcony, gazing out into the cold abyss, and generally being thankful for having a warm, comfy abode. The boy also earned his good samaritan badge of the day by helping shovel and push out a couple of stuck cars in the neighborhood.

The clouds looked like they were emerging from Lake Michigan.

Polar Vortex, you definitely know how to ring in the New Year for us Chicago denizens with a blast. Of icy terror.

Tomorrow we'll try and make our way up to the visa/biometric data office again; wish us luck to be met with actual people and not sirens this time!