Moving Has Been Done

I am never moving again. Ever.

This move has been one of the most laborious, stressful, expensive moves I’ve ever made. But I have to say that it’s also been the most rewarding. I love my new apartment, the paint job that I worked so hard on is already giving me lots of ‘OOooo’ moments, and I love the fact that I now live on the 50th floor rather than the 49th.

It’s all about the numbers with me.

You’d think that moving from the 49th to the 50th floor at the some address would be a piece of cake, However, my address has two 61 story towers and I moved from the west to the east tower. I thought I could just squirrel my things across the adjoining lobby, but noooo!

My first attempt at doing so alerted the doorman who alerted me on the elevator intercom that moving things across the lobby would involve a $500 fine from the condo association.

I don’t ever want to mess with the condo association at Marina Towers – they're basically a formidable group of elderly Jewish widows who have lived here since the place opened in 1964. They're charming little old women, but you just don’t mess with them.

So, this meant that I had to squirrel my things across through the marina level of Marina Towers – basically, the lower-lower basement.

Actually, it was pretty cool, as I had never actually seen the marina level of Marina Towers in the four years that I had lived here.

I decided to rent a heavy-duty dolly from U-Haul which cost ten bucks a day plus cab fare. I’ll have you know that those orange heavy-duty U-Haul dollies often weigh more than most of the heavy loads than what I was squirreling back and forth through the bowels of Marina Towers.

Oh, and keep in mind that I had recently had Major Surgery done on my arm pit area wherein the surgeon had planned on removing a lime-sized bit of “fatty tissue” but instead, gouged out a GRAPEFRUIT-SIZED ‘thing’ that he said, “had legs” underneath my pectoral area.

I’m still not over that description of his. I was supposed to go in for a tiny bit of out-patient activity and I ended up being slit open like a pig.

Bottom line – I ended up painting most of my apartment with a fresh 4-inch pig-like incision, followed by packing-and-schlepping all of my things all by myself with a 500 pound U-Haul monstrosity -- all while my grapefruit-sized wound was healing.

It's not like my friends didn't help . . .

Caveat: Jack and Steve delivered these really cool plastic moving bins which were a god-send. My move would have been incredibly difficult without those plastic bins (By the way, guys, I’m never unpacking them nor giving them back) They also came out of their way to help me move my huge sofa-slash-chaise-lounge the moment I acquired the huge dolly.

Miss Healthypants called out of the blue to say, "Do you need some help moving??" The only thing I really needed help with was my huge, ugly, heavy TV stand. I thought I would need to dis-assemble it, but when Iwanski arrived, he said I didn't need to. with his encouragement and fortitude, he and I were able man-handle the thing through the bowels of my apartment complex. It was pretty cool.

Here is what the route looks like, moving from one tower to the other.

It’s pretty cool to see the actual boats parked in the slips here at Marina City.
So, yesterday, I spent 15 hours moving the last of my things out of the 49th floor apartment. My back really hurtsreally bad. I also spent about six hours cleaning the place impeccably.

I want my deposit back.

Here is the pristine living Room with a View:

And the gleaming non-parallel hallway. See how the floors shine?
And the black-and-yellow kitchen:

(I also want photographic documentation that I cleaned the place really well) – Judge Judy has taught me well

And to top it all off, a view from my new balcony on the 50th floor - - Isn't it purdy??

(For JP, this is now the "Balcony of Even More Terror")

Really, I never want to move again, no matter what.

My great-great nieces and nephews can find me at this address. . .