Movin' and Shakin'

As we speak, Jesus Garcia and his two minions are loading all of my earthly belongings into a long Mayflower truck parked a full block away (as they keep reminding me). I had been very worried about this move, so I'm happy to report that I like Jesus. He seems sincere, and he will be driving my stuff from Brooklyn to Boulder his very own self. This is good.

He tried to get me to sign a piece of paper that waived my right to insurance, which is something I've already paid through the nose for. Less good, this.

But I told him I just couldn't sign it, showed him on my estimate where I had paid for FVP, or Full Value Protection, and he shrugged his shoulders and said, "Okay." We're good again.

Note that my apartment is half-empty and it is only 8:14am, when they weren't supposed to even be here until 8. This is because Jesus showed up a full hour earlier than his window. (This appears to be a running theme with him; see below.) This would have been fine except that I decided to have a final hurrah out with my girls last night. I didn't get to sleep until 2am, so I literally showed up to the door with my hair awry and my pajamas (a.k.a. Mom's Famous Homemade Pants) in full action. That was pretty.

In blinding opposition to what one hears about movers--i.e., that your stuff could go missing for weeks at a time--it appears that Jesus errs on the side of early delivery. He wants to know if he can deliver this upcoming Saturday or Sunday. (If Sunday, can it happen earlier in the day, so he can still watch the Superbowl?) My official window doesn't start until the following Friday, and I didn't even know if I'd be there then. So this change of events is unnerving. It makes me even more eager to find an apartment in Boulder later this week when I'm out there. That, or it means that I'll have them deliver my stuff to storage, and that I'll have to bribe SL, JG & GB to help me haul it to my new apt later in the month.

OY. Moving is complicated.