Packing in the Inferno

Now that I'm officially unpacked in my new place, I guess that means it's time to blog about packing (I hate not having a personal computer). The air conditioning in my old apartment would break about every 3 days or so and I'd call them and they would come "fix" it and it would be ok for 3 more days. They said it was leaking freon. Well, the day before the packers were coming, the maintenance guy came to look at the unit in my apartment (rather than just the one outside) because outside wasn't leaking fast enough that it should run out that quickly. So he came in, turned off the AC unit so that he could "hear the leak" unscrewed and some things said it was leaking freon into my apartment (that can't be good) and he'd have to see if they had the part and would be "right back". He left the unit all ripped apart, the light in the closet on and all his tools on the floor. He never came back. I ran into him out in the parking lot and asked him what the deal was, could I turn my AC back on or what. He told me he needed to order a part and would be back first thing the next morning. That was two days before I moved and I never saw him again.

That night it was scorching hot in my apartment. The thermostat said 87, and I can only open my sliding door on the balcony which screams "please come in and rob me in the middle of the night." I wasn't really sure if it was any cooler outside anyway, so I closed it when I went to bed. I put all my sheets and my pajamas in the freezer and managed to get cool enough to fall asleep and then woke up at 6am in a sweat.

The packers arrived and kinda annoyed me. I'm not really sure why. They just weren't that friendly. I apologized for it being so hot and offered them water and stuff, but always kept imagining that they were talking about my stuff when they were on breaks. "dude, what is with all the Alice in Wonderland shit?" "Did you see how fat that chick used to be?" Anyway, I just sat there really not knowing what to do because a) I'm not helping because I'm paying you and b) I'm not leaving because its my stuff. It only took them about three hours (and after unpacking I can see why...they did a pretty shitty job).

That night I spent at my gramma's air conditioned house (since everything I had was packed...except for random items like a plastic thing of cookie cutters which I'm not sure if the packers missed or what). However, I was slightly panicked because I didn't have my cell charger or my glasses and was slightly concerned they had been accidentally packed. Also, my gramma wasn't sure if her alarm worked or not and since my cell phone had died and my charger was missing didn't have a back up plan. I woke up at 5 am and decided to just go back to my apartment and nap on the couch so that I knew I would be up when the movers came.

The movers came and they were friendlier than the packers and it took them only 2 hours to load everything up (which allowed me time to meet Carmen and Kate for lunch). I had been given a seven day window in which my stuff could arrive in Winston-Salem, but was told to ask the truck driver as he would have a better idea. Here's that conversation:

Me: Do you know what day you'll be delivering my stuff to Winston-Salem?
Mover: Sunday
Me: This Sunday?
Mover: yeah, is there a problem with that?
Me: Well, they gave me the dates of the 3rd through the 9th and that's the 2nd.
Mover: Oh, I guess we'll be there Monday then.

Apparently a seven day span was not enough. Anyway, after they left, I cleaned my apartment (in the ungodly heat) and left to spend another night at my grandma's.

Stay tuned for the next post: Why Best Buy sucks and John Fred rocks.