I've been gone from Blog Trek for too long. Life interferes sometimes (more frequently for me than I would wish.) The move involved more than packing, which was a heavy enough burden while working full-time. I had to find somewhere that would take my dog, was within my budget range and within a reasonable distance of the territory I cover for home health visits. It also had to be large enough to accommodate my furniture, which isn't apartment-friendly and it had to be in a safe enough area to allow me to walk my dog in the evening before bed.
All of the above aren't easy to accommodate, but I finally found that 550 square foot apartment in Monrovia, within my budget, would take Taffy, was within a block of Old Town and only 3.5 miles further than my current drive to the center of Pasadena. Everything was okay except the 550 square feet. So much smaller than anything I had lived in since leaving Arizona in my rearview mirror. Challenging, to say the least. I purged. I packed. I purged again. I spent more time at Goodwill than I did on my packing.
And all the time, I worked and continued editing my friend's workbook while struggling on with the revisions of "Indelible." Finally, I got done with that draft of the workbook, I admitted I had no concentration left for "Indelible," which demands a lot of my brain to keep the plot straight, the characterizations evolving, the timelines correct, etc., etc. I also had a full caseload for my day job, and the deadline to move out loomed on the horizon. I committed myself to moving on May 10 and tried not to feel overwhelmed. My friend came from Spokane the Thursday evening before I moved. As expected, she said "whatever" and went to bed. The following morning, we talked and she helped me with some packing before we had lunch in Monrovia and I went to sign my lease and she drove to OC.
I drove the worst U-Haul truck in the nationwide fleet May 10. I had wanted 3 young guys to move me, but my neighbor's son brought himself and one friend. My son came and had to be the 3rd person instead of mainly supervising what was going into the truck and where. I was still packing, because no matter how many boxes I had bought or been given, they never seemed to be enough. I had to buy 6 more at the U-Haul the day I picked up the truck, and I still had not cleared out the shelves in the laundry room.
When everything arrived at the apartment, the kids brought the stuff in backwards and we were all so busy trying to meet the deadline to get the truck back while waiting for the slowest elevator on the face of this earth to go between the 1st and 3rd floors that I didn't register the fact that all the boxes were occupying every inch of the living room and dining room floorspace until in came the furniture. I ended up with boxes to within 2 feet of the ceiling, my bed was put up backwards, with the metal headboard supports sticking out to remind me every time my poor ankles passed them. My little green wooden table was blocking the entrance to the living room. I wondered that evening if I would get stuck inside that room and never get back out. I took the cell phone with me and manoevered the table in front of me until I got it onto the couch. I sat down and stared at the overwhelming tower of boxes before retreating to make up the bed.
I did find sheets, but where were the boxes I had marked "Open First?" They were buried in the mountain occupying the living room. I made the best of things and showered without a shower curtain. I found damp "delicates" dry very well in a warmed-up-to-350-degree oven the next morning. I found a clean shirt to go with my dirty jeans and returned to the house because we had missed the deadline of 7PM by 1 minute and the gates of U-Haul were locked. I had called and spoken with the U-Haul staff several times on that Saturday to tell them the truck's ramp had stuck and we had to get tools to house it back under the truck, the "service engine soon" light illuminated immediately it climbed the first hill and the transmission was slipping and the engine 'missing' the entire way to and from Monrovia. It also had no brake lights, which gave my son an exhilerating ride in my Escape as he followed behind. I was told if I didn't get the truck back on time, I would have to take it back the following day and pay, too.
Arriving at U-Haul the following morning, my son having to drive again from Whittier to Highland Park and follow me to South Pasadena, we found, thankfully, 2 much nicer, apologetic and understanding U-Haul employees, who took the truck away, removed the extra day's charge and lowered the prices on all the extra items, such as the dollies and the moving pads. I told the manager we were no novices to U-Hauling after driving a 27 footer pulling my car on a transporter all the way from Phoenix, AZ to Worcester, MA., but that 24 foot truck was a nightmare and needed to go immediately for servicing.
AT&T also gave me a bad experience. They cut off my DSL the Wednesday before I moved, when my phone service wasn't disconnected until that Saturday. I ended up having to talk to a supervisor after the representative was absolutely no help and I told her someone had to make that mistake right. They gave me dial-up service but it was so slow, it was useless. When I arrived here, Verizon had mailed out my start-up kit on May 5, when I wasn't moving into the apartment until May 10. UPS stuck a note on my door that Sunday morning, after I had only been gone 10 minutes to walk the dog, to let me know they were not going to try to deliver it again and I had to go to Baldwin Park to pick up the package.
Now Verizon became the bad guy. I made 5 lengthy calls that got me through to all the wrong departments, who transfered me after listening to my tale of woe and then disconnected me. This doesn't count the times I just got cut off. Period. I finally got a card from UPS with a tracking number, called them and insisted they bring the kit back, but to the office, so they could sign for it. They did, and thanks to the maintenance man, because the office is never open when I'm home, the kit arrived 2 weeks after I moved in.
My desk never made it in the door. It ended up in a dumpster, all $550 of it, because it would not fit. I'm now using a $5 table I bought 20 years ago at a yard sale in Houston, to house my monitor, keyboard and printer. It works, so I'm not going to try to find a desk to replace it. This isn't going to be my permanent place of residence past a year, I have promised myself. "Indelible" will get revised, I will get a new agent, I will land a 3-book contract and then I will blow the dust of California from my heels as I head for somewhere kinder to my pocketbook.
After the last month, I deserve it.
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