Moving to the Big City
Space! Glorious space!
We've moved to a larger flat in the big city.
We now have room: room to move; room to breathe.
No more tiny bathroom. No more running into furniture and hurting my body. No more whacking my head into cupboard doors. No more water leaking in during typhoons. No more broken air conditioners.
We have 450 square feet of open space.
I even have a little bit of space to chase my wife.
Let's go back to October 20, 1999. You may recall we were On Safari in the Concrete Jungle. We made the kill, as it were.
On the weekend of January 8, we toured a flat that met our size, budget, and location requirements. There were a few drawbacks, but nothing we felt couldn't be overcome. We made a deposit equal to one month's rent to hold the flat until the following weekend, so we'd have time to coordinate the move. That meant the planets would need to align, the forces of evil would have to be kept at bay, and God Himself would have to turn His smiling face upon us.
First item: Hire a mover that wouldn't charge an arm and a leg. Through a colleague, Mabel found one who seemed reasonable in price. Check. Second item: Set up telephone installation. I made a phone call. Check. Third item: Re-direct the mail. I ran to the post office. Check.
Then the real fun began. I had to find boxes: lots of boxes. A local grocery store had a few boxes they were throwing out, but not enough. I took them home and packed what I could.
On a hunch, the next day I went back to the store. Jackpot! They had tons of boxes, so I started picking out the good ones. Out of nowhere, some guy walked up to me and started yelling at me, but he wasn't a store employee. I didn't catch everything he said, but he was unhappy I was taking any boxes. I stared at him and pretended not to understand. Then I walked away.
With the boxes.
I began to pack in earnest. As I did, I was amazed at how much crap we'd stuffed into 225 square feet. How it got in the flat, I have no idea; I don't know how we did it. I may have violated one or two laws of physics.
Regardless, it was time to jettison some ballast. The more useless junk I threw out, the less I'd have to move.
By the 14th, most of our possessions were in boxes stacked to the ceiling. Space was non-existent. On the 15th, we finalised the lease and received the keys. We had the lock on the gate and on the door changed, and then I waited two hours in the empty flat for the phone company to show up.
Oh, my aching feet.
Once that was done, we had a brief but nice dinner to celebrate our wedding anniversary and my birthday. Then we rushed home to pack, as the 16th was Moving Day.
The next day, Mabel had business, leaving me to move. Her cousin came over to help. Along with the mover, we carted boxes to the lift, rode down 30 floors to the parking garage, loaded the van, then did it all over again. When the van was full, we locked up and headed for Hong Kong Island.
Along the route, we had to go through two toll booths. The first was at Lion Rock Tunnel. I coughed up eight dollars. The second was at the Cross Harbour Tunnel. I coughed up 15 dollars.
When we arrived, the real work began. Our flat was on the first floor in a 40-year-old building. As the lift didn't service the first floor, we had to carry everything up the stairs, which we did.
Oh, my aching legs.
Once done, we locked up and returned to Sha Tin for the second and final load. Along the return route, I forked over more money at the toll booths.
During the second load, I got a nasty surprise. We got everything in the van, but the mattress wouldn't fit and the idiot mover refused to make a third trip. Leaving the mattress behind wasn't part of the game plan. We had to turn over the keys to the old flat on the 18th, and if I couldn't find someone to help us move the mattress, we'd have to buy a new one.
I wasn't a happy camper, because it looked as though we'd be sleeping on the floor. I was choked; even paying the tolls a third time annoyed me.
Once there, we unloaded the whole mess, including a refrigerator and a heavy washing machine.
Oh, my aching back.
I couldn't rest as there was too much to do; the place was unfurnished. I ran to a local housewares store to pick up a broom, dustpan, cleaning cloths, a shower rack and a couple of portable closets. I spotted a couple of foam mattresses, so I grabbed them as well.
Once home, I started cleaning. The flat had been renovated, but a ton of people had been through it for viewings and I wanted it clean.
I started with the bathroom: toilet, shower, sink, walls and floor. Then I washed the floors in the bedrooms. The kitchen, which had not been renovated, needed dire attention (the previous tenants were slobs), but it had to wait.
I assembled the closets and the shower rack, putting away as much clothing and toiletries as possible. I store boxes out of the way until I had time to determine what other furnishings we'd require to get settled.
Other than the hiccup with the mattress, things were going well. Two days later we retrieved our mattress and closed out the lease on the old flat. Things were looking better.
Unbeknownst to us, horrors lurked on the horizon...
January 21, 2000
Next Tale: Get Out of My House, Roach
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