Archive for the 'Moving home' Category

Day 1: Cleaning

admin February 1st, 2008

Day 1: Friday 1st February.

I got up really really early as it’s cleaning day today (and somehow, I couldn’t sleep well last night). Went down for breakfast at 7am, greeting everyone (grandpa came to help, arrived at 6am apparently). We had our meal and packed some boxes into the car, drove Brandon off to his school and then stopped at our new place, unloading some stuff and heading inside.

Dad ordered me to do some vacuuming above all else, drove home to get the second batch of boxes. Mum went straight for the kitchen, cleaning wardrobes and everything.

After I vacuumed, I put gloves on to do some cleaning my room, namely some of the furniture already inside. Halfway through wiping, mum needed me to do a few small things for her, but heard dad’s piercing voice, asking for me. I told him to “hold on” while I quickly took off my gloves, which took a while because it was size extra small so it wouldn’t slip off while I’m cleaning dishes (original purpose of them). Then he kept telling me to be quick and I kinda snapped, telling him I WAS being as quick as possible.

Anyway, he brought a second batch of boxes and wanted me to move them with him. Outside, it started raining (thank GOD it’s not a stinking sticky hot day like in the past 3 consecutive days!). Moving the lighter boxes, we went in and out of the security door (as grandpa helped us open every time we reach the door to speed things up) around about 6 times or so.

I got upstairs and put on my gloves again, finishing off what I was cleaning earlier. Dad noted the time (9:30) and announced he was leaving for the City to get some documents back, only to rush in the door and causing another (unwelcomed) racket, saying something about his license.

Shit. I took his license last night to sign up for something and gave it back, not knowing where his wallet was. We all stayed quiet until he left, then we were muttering things like “he’s so mean” and “such bad mood”…

Sigh.
Whatever.

I got back to cleaning, working on the en-suite in my room. Wiped around the bench, drawers and stuff. All dandy. Pulling out the drawers was made me feel a bit disgusted. There was a light smell but that wasn’t it. Underneath, the ex-tenants didn’t clean it, and dirt and grime accumulated. With my trusty sponge and detergent, I scrubbed, hard. Man, they didn’t even bother throwing out their rubbish. I mean, the tenants were already pretty good and the apartment was already really clean when we arrived, but I guess my expectations have exceeded current state.

After that, grandpa and I moved bro’s table to my room because I needed a computer desk and a study table. We rearranged the study tables towards the windows so it’s more brighter where I work at later. Then we relocated the cabinet to Brandon’s room as a bed side draw.

Happy with that (and silently hoping the bed will fit where I mentally allocated), I progressed to cleaning around my room, window sills, walls and all. After that, I cleaned the wardrobe and mirror of my room (my clothes were sitting there), and then progressed to Brandon’s room to clean his built-in wardrobe.

It was already 11:30am when dad returned from the City, his documents completed and all. Then he made a slight remark about being tired. Feeling a little daring, I started my argument.

Me: You’re tired? How about me?
Dad: You only moved the lighter boxes, and I move 2 boxes every time whereas you only moved one at a time.
Me: Yeah, but did you spend 4 hours cleaning up, scrubbing this and that?

And he shutted up.

And this conversation repeated in the car unintentionally, to a greater extent.

Me: I’m starving.
Dad: You’re hungry? You only lifted a few light boxes and you’re hungry already?
Me:
But I was cleaning up while you drove to the City.
Dad: You only can handle small boxes, don’t help much at all. (Note: change of topic)
Me: If I don’t help much at all, then don’t ask me to do it next time.

And he shutted up again, kinda talking to my grandpa in the front seat. Mum and I looked at each other.

Ha, how ungrateful!

Anyway, we stopped by the restaurant, ate, and grandpa walked to the train station while dad dropped me off home. I need some sleep.

Moving one giant (ancient) item

admin January 31st, 2008

Turned out to be disastrous!

Firstly, me, my brother were on one end of this huge wardrobe and my dad on the other end. Because there wasn’t anything to hold onto, there wasn’t any grip for the both of us, so this light but big task became quite hard, to say the least.

During the move downstairs, dad kept complaining that Brandon and I were pretty bad removalists. I mean, duh, we’ve never really moved anything before, it’s only natural. But shut up, y’know? It wouldn’t make things any easier.

So we almost reached the bottom of the stairs but as our stairway is an enclosed area, it made it all the much harder, even when it is wider than the average. His instructions were starting to confuse the shit out of not only Brandon, but me also. He kept telling us to move up a few steps, direct the wardrobe to the right side, then go downstairs. “The wardrobe is on the right side, maxed, can’t go any further!” So he sighed, told my mum to hold the other end while he went upstairs to try for himself. Still didn’t work.

Being a stubborn one, he tried again, telling us to go halfway up the stairs, flipping it around to make the wardrobe fit. We went downstairs. Ohhh, just a bit more.

And again.
And again.
And again…

Tired, sweaty (it was one HOT day!!! Come on, our shirts were practically see-through), and hurting (no grip-ness, scrapings and other accidents), we had to move the whole wardrobe upstairs again, settle it. What happens next? Dad hammered it open. Smashed it to pieces.

Goodbye ancient thing.
Finally (We all told him to throw it out before, but he wouldn’t listen. Look at it now!)

All that effort for nothing.

Oh, actually, we did get something from dad… A remark: “You guys are seriously useless in moving stuff. When we’re moving, you both move as many boxes as possible because you definitely not experienced in moving furniture.”

So there you have it, our first attempt in moving one piece of furniture out of the house.

[Nod]

It’s gonna be awesome on Saturday.
Just awesome.

Rude Estate

admin January 24th, 2008

Now I don’t usually get ticked off by trivial things but…

Rude Rude Rude!!!

As you know, we’ve been home hunting for rent. So I found this good one and dad told me to call. And I called up just then… This was how the conversation went:

Ring

Lady: [company name],may I help you?
Me: Hi, may I speak to [name]. Oh, wait sorry. I saw—
Lady: Just one second *puts HOLD music, for a minute*

Lady: Hi, which property were you after?
Me: The one at Campsie.
Lady: [name of street]?
Me: That’s the one.
Lady: Can I get to take down your number and we’ll give you a call when it’s for lease?
Me: Oh so it’s not for lease yet? How about the one at number 5?
Lady: That one is leased.
Me: Oh ok, so—
Lady: Just one second *puts HOLD music*

Lady: So what was your name and number?
Me: *tells her name and number*
Lady: Ok, we’ll give you a call. Bye. *HANGS UP*

Ok, was that RUDE or not?! You generally wait for the other person to say goodbye, not just hang up!

And you’d expect them to be NICER to potential customers!

I wish your company burns goes in poverty for this treatment.
Is there hope for the world we live in today?!

I guess not.