Mishap No. 1

Okay. When you move, there are always last minute problems. The first of them occurred today.

I wrote the other day about dropping off my comforter at the dry-cleaners--yeah, of course it's the cleaners, when are they not jerking people around? I took my comforter, dropped it off, got my claim ticket, everything was fine. Went out today to pick it up--was told that, despite my ticket saying to pick it up before 3:00, the day's shipment of cleaned clothes etc wouldn't be dropped off until 3:00. So, I drove to the bank, did a few other errands, went back.

Still no comforter.

Frustrated, I went into the back room and flagged down the woman working. Turns out that, oh, it takes a week for household items to be cleaned. My claim ticket says two days. Good job with communication there. This made me angry. So I pitched a bit of a fit, telling this woman that I would be out of the state in a week, and I wouldn't have dropped it off with them if I had known it was going to take that long. She seemed most concerned that I'd made two trips to the cleaners in one day. I told her that I didn't really care about making two trips, my issue was that I need my $300 comforter back now.

But, of course, she can't do anything. She sends me across town to the "plant" where they do the cleaning. It's on Business Loop--I figure this out after she gives me about five minutes of strange instructions, ending with, "And it's on Business Loop, right by College [street], in a strip mall."

So I left. It took me twenty minutes to get to Business Loop because, of course, they're doing road construction on every street in the entire town. Finally get to the right intersection. I can't find this place anywhere, so I drive down a few blocks and double back. After doing this a few times, I finally find it.

The "plant," or the main headquarters, is in a tiny, run-down building with no air-conditioning and no parking lot. I wedge my car far enough off the street that I won't get hit and head inside.

Enter a wizened old woman who looks like she's had about a gajillion too many cigarettes. I explain my problem, hand her my claim ticket, and she disappears into the back for about five minutes. When she returns, no comforter.

"I dunno, it's not there," she says.

I'm about ready to start ripping people into pieces all Edward Cullen style (yes, I did just make a Twilight reference, enjoy it and laugh at the ridiculousness of that), and she decides to go look again.

Five minutes later, still no comforter.

"It's probably next door being cleaned."

She can't walk next door and find out? No, of course she can't. She looks like one more puff on a cigarette will finish her off. Seeing that I'm pissed, she promises that it'll be clean Thursday after 3:00, available at the location where I dropped it off. If it's done sooner, she'll call me.

I swear, if it's not done on Thursday after 3:00, I will go postal on these people. They owe me my comforter or $300. They can pick.

In the meantime, there are a gazillion things to do at the apartment.

• The bedrooms need to be painted.
• Everything else needs to be packed.
• Clothes, sheets, towels, etc need to be laundered tonight and tomorrow before the washer/dryer set is picked up by its new owners on Thursday.
• My comforter needs to be freaking picked up.
• The entire novella of a checklist of cleaning needs to be completed so we get our deposit back. This includes pulling out the fridge and cleaning beneath it. Are you kidding me?

Ugh. And, of course, everyone wants to do things. This is that point in the move when people in town realize that I will not be here in a few days and it's time to do something together one last time. This is all well and good, but.. I have a lot to do. Almost every evening this week is spoken for by some scheduled meeting or dinner.

I'm sure everything will get done, but I think it's about to get really crazy.