Saturday, April 3, 2010

Even Scarlett Got Wet

When your movers call you at 10:00 a.m. on moving day and announce casually "we can't make it because it's pouring outside" your whole life tends to flash before your eyes.  You think this can't happen, but believe me - and listen very carefully you slightly scatterbrained procrastinators out there as this kind of stuff especially tends to happen to us - it can happen.  My "I'm a writer I'll report you" and "I'm taking this to court" was met with "Knock yourself out little lady" and a rude click.  I had to return the keys to 'ol Trump by the end of the day.  Harold was so outraged he even went down to the lobby to see if it was really true.  He reported back that indeed there were no movers.  I started googling madly.  Same day delivery. Manhattan movers rush.  Move my stuff today please.  Search engine on fire.

By noon I was nearly in tears until a girlfriend (bless her soul) provided me with a contact - "They could probably squeeze you in at the end of the day" - she warned.  Both buildings needed insurance papers.  Both buildings had a "no moving after 5:00 p.m. policy."  They said they could move me "around 8:00 that night" and I said fine.  The day of endless lies and pushing limits and pissing off supers stretched ominously, and the clouds only grew darker.

One year ago home meant this:

And then for the past year a furnished place at 502 Park meant this:

And yeah I know furnished places are creepy and meant for business men who need places all over the world like Hong Kong and Dubai and other business'ish' places where bankers like to go and be important- not a girl and a shitzu who've lived in Manhattan for over a decade.  But there's something about not owning anything that allows you to float for awhile and suspend time.  None of it's real, and sometimes that's exactly the kind of transition you need.  It's a lot of dresses and heels and late nights and Barney's and Bloomingdales and Bergdorf's (they were my neighbors, not my fault).

When you lose everything and aren't prepared for it, you're not quite ready to acquire anything else of substance.  You dabble in the superficial - people, places, 'thrill of the moment' purchases. Life is all frosting and no cupcake.  If you know what I mean.  Some of you know better than others.

That annoying Friar Lawrence did warn Romeo, though, that the sweetest honey is loathsome in its own deliciousness and some other blah blah blah-ness about doing things moderately.  Betty Crocker vanilla frosting he knew not.

Without divulging too much or sending my entire family into a panic attack, let's just say the Kings of Leon had a very timely hit that year that kinda said it all. . .

So the movers eventually came, but it was late and an irate super let them know the job had to be done in an hour.  "Lady, we're going to have to dump everything in big boxes," but they said it kindly and there was nothing to do but watch my life go into massive boxes.

Don't let Harold fool you - I know it looks traumatic, but if you know him like I know him, he's just pissed and sulking. He loves Park Avenue and does not think Third Avenue is a very good look for a shitzu who looks as good as he does. And because the super at the other end was equally put off and it was getting increasingly late, I got another "Sorry Lady, but we're going to have to dump everything" and once again, there was nothing to do but acquiesce.

So now home meant this:

One fancy Baker silver chest (yep, the Barbara Barry diamond chest), my reading chair, and everything I had in the world on a pile on the floor.  We were Back to A.

"Let's go for a walk," I told Harold, and we stepped over the pile and into the night like we always do.

It was still raining outside and I'm not going to pull any hokey it-felt-like-a-baptism crap on you.  We got wet (I'm forever in search of umbrellas and gloves) and it sucked and we went back upstairs and sulked for a bit, and decided to deal with it all tomorrow -"I won't think about that now, I'll think about it tomorrow" - Scarlett O'Hara style.

And in the dark we could have been on any street in any room in any place in the world. When we thought about it that way, it didn't seem quite so bleak anymore. On the contrary, it was a harbinger of wonderful adventures to follow as we made this box into a home that represented who we were and what we liked. We thought about this for a long time, and listened to the soothing lullaby of late-night city traffic. The darkness embraced.

That's the thing about night. It has always been the great leveler.


Anonymous said...

Nice blog. Your words have the seeming power to lift, if temporarily, out of darkness. Keep on writing - Anisha Lakhani styles.

Anonymous said...

Wit. Love. it.

Anonymous said...

502 Park is pretty swank address. Sure beats where I was staying last time I was in New York.

Millie@PassionDecor said...

I love you already!

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