I’d just been congratulating myself on being such an efficient Little Red Hen: having to move all my stuff from the big house to my new apartment, and pack every box myself, carry it down 3 flights of stairs, load it into my tiny car, and then carry it up 3 flights of stairs in the new place…
To be fair, Jem and Matty have been wonderful, M especially as he can carry the heavy boxes, and also being 6 foot 5 is great for fixing lightshades etc 😉
Anyhoo, went over today after lunch with the penultimate (I hope!) lot of kitchen jars, all the bits and bobs off my desk, and my concertina file of documents. (And my Scrabble dictionary, so all my opponents should make the most of this opportunity!)
The underground car park door opened OK with my remote, I unloaded all the boxes, a passing resident asked if I needed help, I smiled sweetly and accepted his offer with the heavy stuff, and he introduced himself as Tommy, from a flat 2 floors down.
All the boxes safely inside, I set about unpacking and re-arranging. Jem, as I said, has been an absolute star, and donated her iPod base unit to the communal living area, so I slotted in my newly re-found big iPod (the Shuffle lives in my handbag) and the first song it chose was “Don’t You Worry Bout a Thing”.
I sang along as I hammered the feet into Jem’s computer desk, and re-arranged the position of the shoe rack in my bedroom, thanking my lucky stars yet again fro finding such a beautiful and LARGE apartment.
Still singing, I stacked some empty boxes to take back with me, and went back down to teh car park. The roller door was stuck about 2/3 way down. I pressed the remote button. Nothing. I got out and pressed all the buttons by the side of the door – no response. Luckliy, I’d recently imported all my contacts into my new iPhone, so I called the owner of the apartment (no reply), and then the letting agent. They in turn got the maintenance people to ring me, who asked if I’d pressed all the buttons. Ok, they’d send someone out but it might be an hour before they got to me.
Time passed.
I listened to the radio – Dermot O’Leary was on. I thought I’d send him a text about my predicament just to pass the time. He played me a dedication! Paulo Nutini, too <wow>
Time passed.
Tommy re-appeared, leaving out some rubbish. He tried pressing all the buttons, too, and nothing happened, though we had a nice little chat.
Time passed.
Another resident appeared, and started putting a suitcase into his BMW. I explained that the door was stuck, but he said “Oh it’s done this before, I managed to get it to open” and he proceeded to press all the buttons…and to my amazement, the door opened! He wasn’t able to tell me what the magic sequence was, sadly, but Freedom!
I’d been planning on taking Max for a last walk together. It is undoubtedly strange being in this position: tonight is quite possibly the last night I’ll spend in the big house. And while I’m pretty sure I’ll see Max again, and take him for walkies, we don’t really know what shape the future will be.
Jem is sooo looking forward to leaving the big house, and absolutely adores the new place. I feel sad that she feels no regrets at leaving the big house – doesn’t want any reason to come back her and doesn’t want to see Roger again. But am so impressed at her positive attitude to moving, fresh start, her helpfulness and cheerfulness.
The owner’s just phoned me as I’m typing this, very apologetic about the inconvenience. He’d just been round himself and apparently the door is stuck again, so maybe he can put some pressure on to the maintenance crowd to get it sorted.
Meanwhile, I’m off to The Gambia tomorrow, where it’s currently 40 degrees!!!
Still singing “Don’t You Worry Bout a Thing”….
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Dancing At Lunacy 