Well, the moveout happened, but it happened a little differently from my last moveout.
Moveout September 1, 2001: my caretaker Vince shows up at my apartment to do the moveout report. He's stoned, as usual. The man always reeks of hydroponic. He shuffles through my suite, commenting on features he hadn't noticed before. He discusses music with me. He frowns at my bathroom ceiling, grabs my mop and cleans it. He then looks at the clipboard in his hand, with a slightly disconcerted glance as if he wasn't aware he was carrying it. He ticks everything off as satisfactory, humming the entire time. He offers me a ride to my new place. I accept. He hits on me. I get my damage deposit back. Time elapsed: 10 minutes.
Moveout September 1, 2004: My new serbian caretaker, a woman in her mid40s, shows up at my apartment with an older serbian woman, a squat, seemingly humourless woman with the clamped down mouth of a pitbull. Her unexpected partner is apparently a more experienced caretaker from another building who is going to show her how to do a moveout. They proceed through my old apartment like a couple of vicious checkpoint charlie border guards, running fingertips over every surface, consulting intently in serbian, checking EVERYTHING. I was told to wash the outside of the windowsills. I was then queried as to why I hadn't washed the wall BEHIND my stove.
Time elapsed: 45 minutes.
After the moveout sheet was all checked and done, the two of them were completely sweet; I sure as hell wouldn't have tangled with them before though.
Conclusion: Always seek rental situations where your caretaker is an inveterate pothead.
My new caretakers are a couple of young cute serbian soccer player brothers. I'm not sure if they puff. I smiled at the one doing my move in report, and he got all flustered and blushed. It was very cute.
I'm glad to be in my new place now. Boxes are piled around me, but it feels good to be somewhere again. I'll start unpacking this weekend.
Mom Update: My mom is doing well. She's home to spend some time with my sister in law before she leaves town. She's going to go back afterwards and get the operation. Her spirits are really good. I'm going to help her clear some stuff from her basement tomorrow.
Off to a movie.
Moveout September 1, 2001: my caretaker Vince shows up at my apartment to do the moveout report. He's stoned, as usual. The man always reeks of hydroponic. He shuffles through my suite, commenting on features he hadn't noticed before. He discusses music with me. He frowns at my bathroom ceiling, grabs my mop and cleans it. He then looks at the clipboard in his hand, with a slightly disconcerted glance as if he wasn't aware he was carrying it. He ticks everything off as satisfactory, humming the entire time. He offers me a ride to my new place. I accept. He hits on me. I get my damage deposit back. Time elapsed: 10 minutes.
Moveout September 1, 2004: My new serbian caretaker, a woman in her mid40s, shows up at my apartment with an older serbian woman, a squat, seemingly humourless woman with the clamped down mouth of a pitbull. Her unexpected partner is apparently a more experienced caretaker from another building who is going to show her how to do a moveout. They proceed through my old apartment like a couple of vicious checkpoint charlie border guards, running fingertips over every surface, consulting intently in serbian, checking EVERYTHING. I was told to wash the outside of the windowsills. I was then queried as to why I hadn't washed the wall BEHIND my stove.
Time elapsed: 45 minutes.
After the moveout sheet was all checked and done, the two of them were completely sweet; I sure as hell wouldn't have tangled with them before though.
Conclusion: Always seek rental situations where your caretaker is an inveterate pothead.
My new caretakers are a couple of young cute serbian soccer player brothers. I'm not sure if they puff. I smiled at the one doing my move in report, and he got all flustered and blushed. It was very cute.
I'm glad to be in my new place now. Boxes are piled around me, but it feels good to be somewhere again. I'll start unpacking this weekend.
Mom Update: My mom is doing well. She's home to spend some time with my sister in law before she leaves town. She's going to go back afterwards and get the operation. Her spirits are really good. I'm going to help her clear some stuff from her basement tomorrow.
Off to a movie.
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i'll take stuff for 800.