Moving once is like dying twice

...as the Germans say.

We're here, we're moved in, I'm cranky. The end.

The movers were actually much more helpful this time around--they didn't damage anything, and we managed to get almost all the furniture inside.

The new apartment is very cool, tons of character, but it does have two very twisty and narrow staircases. We already knew most of the furniture wouldn't fit up to the top floor--what we didn't count on was that some wouldn't even make it in the front door. The entertainment center had to be completely abandoned (it's in the basement, awaiting its fate), and all the furniture we'd intended for the top floor is now stuck on the lower floor, as none of it will fit up the staircase.

As usual, the entire moving process has been an exercise in frustration.

1. Bank of America fucked me. They charged me a $12 "monthly maintenance fee" they'd never charged me before, then charged me a $35 overdraft fee for the privilege. Conveniently, they waited until the only day last month when I didn't have $12 available, necessitating a $35 overdraft fee. Then when I called to complain, they said they "couldn't help me" and that I "didn't qualify to have the charges reversed."

Translation: you don't make enough money for us to care about keeping your account. Even though I've had that account for ten years.

So I closed that account, and opened a new one at a new bank. Even more conveniently, my funds are now tied up while I wait for the new debit card and PIN to arrive separately.

2. We bought a new sofa, but half of the ottoman wasn't delivered with the rest of it. So there's that.

3. We tried to switch our Verizon cable/internet to the new place, only to be told that they wouldn't be able to get out to connect everything for TEN DAYS.

So I had to close that account, and open a new one with Cox Cable. That was three hours of my life, gone right there.

4. Then my computer couldn't connect to our new network. Another two hours down the drain.

5. The house is in a state of chaos (predictably). I can't find anything, and everything I unpack presents a new logistical challenge. ("Where the hell am I supposed to put the potato ricer? I can't even find my shoes...I'll just throw it over here...now where the hell did I leave the boxcutter?" and so on.)

6. Also, John is working late every night, and I'm working all weekend, so nothing will get accomplished for the next couple of days.

7. Alarmingly soon, I'm going to have to turn the last of the tomato harvest into a batch of tomato sauce. I'm not sure that can wait until Monday. It may have to, though, as I still haven't unpacked all of the kitchen things I'd need for that.

And I'm covered with bruises from bumping into unfamiliar corners and boxes.

Did I mention I'm cranky?

At least I wasn't the one that had to wrestle the furniture inside. There's that, at least.