Moving Daze

Not my actual truck, but well, like it

Tuesday began my grand move, my leap from flat sharing with a friend to the great unknown of living alone. The deposit was paid, the boxes packed, the movers booked. All should have been well. But no, oh no, Disaster Month continued with full force.

I used the movers I booked this time last year – Execu Move, as they were helpful, polite and efficient as all heck last year (plus super affordable). This year? Disgusting. I phoned to confirm the move time on Monday and was told the movers would be there between 9 and 10 on Tuesday. Come 10 on Tuesday, nothing. No one. I call them again and they say they have to phone the driver and check. They never call me back, so again I call them. They insist they try to call me (but repeat a blatantly wrong number back), but advise me they will be there between 12 and 1. Finally, at 12:40pm they rock up. The only good thing I can say about Execu Move? Their actual movers were AMAZING. Shockingly, despite being told I had a fridge that needed to be moved, they didn’t give the guys a trolly to move it. My old flat is on the first floor – with no lifts! Not to mention how many boxes and furniture items I needed to have moved. Never, ever again will I used them.

The next drama occured on Wednesday when my couch was to be delivered by Mr Price Home. Now, don’t get me wrong, I adore Mr Price Home. I spend hours wandering the aisles, staring at things I don’t need but want (I have a strange kitchenware fetish), but I was so mad after this experience that it’ll take me some time to go back.

My couch arrived pretty much on time. But without legs. The guy delivering it had the audacity to tell me that I must go back to the store to get them. WHAT? I paid almost R2000 for that couch PLUS a delivery fee. Are you freaking kidding me?! Then, after I refused and refuse to sign for delivery the guy goes back to the store. Hour later? Not. Back. I call him and he has some excuse about helping a customer. In the end, yes. I got my couch WITH legs.

Now the boxes are mostly unpacked, my stuff is squished into my itsy bitsy bachelor home and I’m almost ready to leave my parents abode and head into my new one. By the end of all of this, I am feeling very much like this:

Gonna ugly cry this all out...


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