dislodged

I felt as though Brooklyn had a big heavy boot slammed down firmly on my coattail, as if Bob and I were some how lodged in a Brooklyn crevasse from which we could not free ourselves. I thought I was going to have to saw something off with the sharp edge of our packing tape dispenser just to get loose. I imagined we'd appear in the papers the following week, bandaged in adjoining hospital beds, with some headline like "Gay Couple Saws Off Own Limbs to Get Out of Brooklyn."

Well, we are finally out of Brooklyn and slowly making our lodging in the new apartment in the Village, swimming through bubble wrap and foam peanuts, moving boxes back and forth to get to cable or phone depending upon what service is coming through the door, eating at local diners because our kitchen isn't set up right yet...but we're home.

The process of getting ourselves moved into our new place took longer than scheduled and was beset by all kinds of obstacles. Here's just a partial list:

• Our second contractor (the sweet little blond 24-year-old carpenter who was doing such a nice job) turned into a real "contractor" the Saturday before the move and sent us what amounted to an extortion email demanding an additional $5000 above and beyond the original amount in order to complete the job.
  
• Spent the Sunday before the move arranging to have Bob's brother come in to town from Erie PA to help finish the walls and floors so we could move in on time.
  
• Spent the Monday before the move, first with the police to supervise our contractor as he took his stuff and left, then the rest of the day cleaning so Bob's brother could start staining the floors as soon as he arrived.
  
• Spent Tuesday before the move getting caught up at work so I could take the rest of the week off to prepare for the move.
  
• Wednesday our first contractor, the amazing Diane of "I Can Do That for You" slapped a mechanic's lien on us, expecting us to pay the rest of the money owed her (which was less than a third of what we had to pay to repair and complete the mess she left behind in our place). We've since gotten our lawyer deeply involved and hope to settle, just to get her out of our life.
  
• Thursday and Friday came for the big move and so did a snow storm that made it so that we couldn't actually move. So, our moving company took everything out of our Brooklyn apartment and put it in trucks in storage for the weekend because our coop only allows Monday through Friday, 9 to 5 moves.
  
• With everything we owned on those trucks, including our mattress, Bob and I got a hotel room for the weekend, in Chelsea, just so that we wouldn't feel trapped in Brooklyn any longer.
  
• As soon as we got to the hotel, Bob started to quake with fever chills. Something he caught in Brooklyn (he hadn't been out of the borough in days) had him aching with a temperature, chills and sweats. Our first night out of our Brooklyn apartment and Bob gets hit with the "Brooklyn flu!"
  
• Finally, Monday was our actual moving day, with Bob barely able to keep his head up for most of it. Our couch wouldn't fit through the door, so it went into storage, not back to Brooklyn, thank heavens, but everything else worked out well.
  
• By Thursday, I too was chilling and sweating and aching with the "Brooklyn flu."
  
• Saturday the cable company screwed up our order, because they did a strange thing to link the new service to both our New York address and our old Brooklyn address (again Brooklyn wins) and now we won't have cable until December 27.

By then I hope we will begin to feel at home in the Village, finally.

moving week

Some of you may have seen my friend Dottie's second comment to the last post I made about finding my contractor asleep on the floor of the apartment. Our cute little 24-year-old painter, carpenter and contractor turned out to be a, well, contractor in the worst sense of the word and tried to extort $5,000 extra from us just to finish the job. We had to scramble to get help from family and friends to finish the job because we will be moving at the end of this week. This computer will get packed up almost as soon as I hit "Publish Post," so you won't be hearing from me until Monday or Tuesday next week. I'm sure I'll have plenty to say then! Keep your fingers crossed, light a candle, say a little prayer, do a dance, stuff a statue in sock drawer, rub a horse shoe or a budda belly or just keep us in mind as we make the move.

make a wish

Last night Bob and I stopped by the new apartment at about 11 p.m. to check on the work that had been completed yesterday. All the lights were still on and we heard a light snoring coming from the back of the apartment. As we rounded the corner, there on the dining room floor lay our 24-year-old contractor sleeping next to a couple open paint cans, his head on his backpack, knees sticking up, as if he had just leaned back to shut his eyes and gone immediately into deep REM. We didn't dare wake him; he's been working his cute little 24-year-old tail off for us putting in 14-hours days. But I must admit that Bob and I were tempted each to take a leg and make a wish.

Instead we simply put the lids on the paint cans and went back to Brooklyn. I called him this morning to ask if he knew that he snores.

5 simple pleasures

My burly Italiano blog buddy poetrytoweasles sent out a general tag along with his "5 simple pleasures" meme and I read it, so I feel tagged. And it's a nice easy meme to do while I'm packing and worrying about the move, so I thought I'd take up his challenge:

Name 5 simple pleasures that you like most, then pick 5 people to do the same. Try to be original and creative and not to use things that someone else has already used. (Thank heavens he already used his "number 5.")

1. Bob's laugh.

2. Fresh tomato and basil together (as in an authentic Caprese salad: just tomato, basil, and mozzarella, drizzled lightly with good olive oil and balsamic vinegar--and no other added googa a la Olive-Garden-style grilled red peppers to muck it up).

3. Furtive glances at a wisp of dark hair on the back of a man's hand or in his open collar.

4. The sensation when you finally get to take that long-awaited pee during a long road trip.

5. The smell of the linseed oil coming from a painter's studio.

I'm loath to tag others specifically, but Dottie you got me last week. And seeing as you're getting over a cold you may want to use this if you're not feeling up to a longer post. And Madame President, poetrytoweasles got me with these five easy question before you hit me with your 15. I'll answer those after the move, so you can take your time getting to these. Otherwise, anyone who reads this is open to play along.