This little bit is more about some of the pains that moving inflicts upon a person. (and begs the question, why do we do it?). Some possible reasons for the move would be work (new and existing), love (you crazy fool you), cost of living (yeah, those veggie snacks are getting expensive) and some just for a change of scenery. (its why I travel, besides the paycheck)
So lets get to it.
I'll skip the issues of where.. that's your problem. I won't bore you with mine. If you know me, then you know where.. if you don't, please send 5 USD to Sam Spade. Your first hurdle will be the choice of mover.
You pick from the super deluxe, do everything mover. They will want your first and second born, plus their usual fee of approx. 2 million USD. The upside is that your belongings will get the full spa treatment. They will be lovingly and gently transported to your new city/location with the care they deserve. The movers will lovely box your items with paper, wrap, blankets, the blood of virgins, and other items "guaranteed" to prevent harm to your antique cherry wood desk and your computer. They will be spritz with the scent of choice and will be cushioned against all manner of damage, curses, and evil spirits. Or so the brochure says. The reality is, they are boxed and flung on-board the moving van with all the care and respect a southwest airline baggage handler who knows he's fired tomorrow will give your suitcase. And that scent is not lavender and is illegal in 48 states. If all the pieces arrive to city at the same time you do, consider yourself lucky. (the screws are on the next truck, so no worries.. *smile*).
Your second choice in this tail of woe would be your mid tier mover. These are the ones that claim to move everything carefully, but the crew that arrives at your house looks remarkably similar to the extras in a Rob Zombie movie, and your not really sure if you should let them in, or call a priest (tis why I keep some holy water on hand.. if it burns, well, at least you know before they take your stuff) They are usually not too bad, not too expensive, and not quick. But as you watch them pack, you realize your items are not just being packed, but extras like floor sweepings, and rodents are being added for "cushion". (trust me, 30 mice do not make for an acceptable cushion for that charming 1 of a kind vase you picked up in Hong Kong). And don't forget.. you need to WAIT for these guys. The delivery date given is somewhere between tomorrow and December 31st 2040. Care to make a wager on where you fit in on that schedule? I'll wait while you think... Hint: Think soon. I need a new hot tub anyway.
And lastly, we come to the bottom of the barrel guys. The ones that have been under new management for the last 40 years. The ones that seem to be known by 200 names and using the same phone number (ironically, 1 digit off from a phone sex line, but that is another story). These are the ones that really scare you..they yell from the street "just drop the box, Dave will catch it" (only.... Dave does not seem to be anywhere near the "landing zone" or even in the neighborhood for that matter). That faint "help me" echoing from your boxes should be a clue. If you have books before you start, you will have pulp when they arrive. If you have glass before, you will have chips at the end, if you have computer gear before, you will have a self-assembly kit when it is delivered. During one of my moves, this group managed to break EVERY single item I had (including several Craftsman tools (sadly the warranty does NOT cover acts of Movers) EXCEPT for one small glass cup. (now that people, takes talent.. $15,000 worth of items destroyed and a .99 cent glass cup manages to survive). I highly recommend insurance for these guys.
And this segways nicely into the other group in this tale of horror. Moving insurance. These guys make Microsoft marketers seem like saints.
Let's experiment... trust me.. *evil laugh* Hold out your wallet, take out the credit card with the highest limit (or use a charge card, it will be easier). Remove whatever cash you may have on your person. Place these items into a paper bag. You can put a smiley face on it to make yourself feel better. Now, go into the kitchen and take a chop stick and jab your finger until it bleeds.. Let approx. 1 pint of blood fall into the bag. (why a chopstick I hear you ask, it hurts more to get the blood silly..) Finally, walk outside and find a machete and return to the paper bag. Proceed to hack your hair off and let these "clippings" fall into the bag (for my follically challenged readers, call your local best friend.. (he/she won't be your friend for long, so might as well give them a parting gift). now that you have this melange of items in this rather disgusting paper bag, take it to the park. (any park you like, but preferably one with muggers, rapists, and lawyers.. If none are around, yell out "My sexy girlfriend/boyfriend has lost their wallet near the hot-dog stand" (trust me, you will be surrounded by more of the above than you can handle). Walk 5 paces north east of this group of upstanding citizens and proceed to dig with all your might to a depth of approx. 10 feet using only your hands. If there is concrete, keep moving north east until you hit dirt. (why your hands? see the chopstick reference above... now don't make me pull this entry over young man). Once you have reached the specified depth, drop your bag in the hole, and cover with dirt. Now return home and wait.. patience... There.. do you feel it?.. the feeling that what you have just done made no sense what so ever, and now you are poorer, faint from the loss of blood and in pain, and looking used in a very bad way. That my friends is what moving insurance is.
But consider the alternative... *evil grin*
So my friend, buck up.. its only moving. Feel good knowing that you are giving employment to others and take solace in that at the end of this move, you will proceed to sell/give away/throw away because of the above the items you have hauled some 3000 miles away. Doesn't that feel wonderful?
The time has come my fellow humans, we much make a stand against this most serious of global issues. (right behind ending wars and famine, and eliminating those pesky American Idol people)
I am sure you are quite familar with the senario.
You stop in to a wine bar, or your local watering hole. And of course, some local artist has their works on display.
As the evening (and alcohol) progresses, that peiece that you initially glanced at with a little interest becomes more attractive and you start to consider where to place it in your home. (next to the dining room, or perhaps in the den, where is not important, but the fact is, you have decided on a location to place it). Quickly you assess the damage. "Its only $900.00, and its supporting the local artistic scene" you rationalize. The hint of a sale quickly brings the artist and perhaps a glass or two of your favourite poison into your increasingly bured vision and you chat about work.
The artist, seeing you waver, quickly expresses the pain and sacrifies they have made to produce the work "I didn't eat for 45 days just to paint that piece" (you notice that it hasn't seem to have have made any significant impact in their rather portly 270lb frame) or "I practically lost a finger to Tony Saprano becuase I was so involved in making that painting I didn't pay off my loan shark" (Ummm.. that name seems to ring a bell.. but from where?)
And then the (used car) salesman comes out: "Well, because I like you, and you seem so interested in this work, what if I knock off saaayyyy.... $200.00. Just for you" The artist says to you. As your eyes become blurry due to the amount of alcohol you have injested, that painting that was originally $900 is now $700.00. "Well, its a lovely peice, and its at a discount" you say to yourself.
Where a more level (and sober) mind might have haggled more or logically reasoned: No.. that is at least 1 plane ticket to my favourite destination (ok, that is what mine.. err. I mean someone I spoke to.. said)
You on the other hand, swayed by your set of 20/20 beer goggles, and the "beauty" of the art work decide.. "What the heck, its mine!". You clasp hands with the artist in agreement, and quick as an assains blade, a pen is presented to you to sign the agreement, and you swear you smell a hint of sulfer and you see a horn protruding from their head.. but you shake it off as exhaustion and inebrieation. You jot your X on the document, making the typical drunken promises of love and appreciation, and you swagger out of the venue, feeling proud of your purchase tucked under your arm, and as you reach home, you rest it against the bed and collapse. Ahhh.. the gentle and painful bliss of an alcohol induced sleep. Yes, you know it well. (and shamefully so)
But, there is always the morning after. (I am sure many of you have similar experiences but with agreements of flesh rather than paint and canvas).
You awake to stare at your "wonderful" work of art. You look over.. feeling that inital twinge of fear and nausia. "Oh god, what did I do...". If you are a religious person, you quickly pray that the sight you are staring at is just a dream.. a bad one.. (especially as you glance at the receipt hanging from the work like an accusing finger). If you are not religious, you momentarily become so just to curse the sky and every diety that your sleep deprived and alcohol sloshed mind can bring to bear "Buddah, Zues, Jupiter, Yahwa, Bill Gates.... How could you let me do this? Damn windows.. Damn you Gates."
But alas, tis to no avail... the booty is yours. The artist is singing happily at the purchase, your checkbook (and/or credit card) is creeking under the purchase (so much for that flight to Hong Kong), and you, my friend, have a peice of work that, try as you might, you can't seem to find an appropriate location to display it:
The Kitchen: No, you can't cook with that thing in there... though on the plus side, you might loose weight from your reluctantance of entering the kitchen.
The Living room: No.. it will scare the guests and you will have to explain it to everyone. And you are just not up to the talk of AA and psychological testing. (though if this is your 2nd or 3rd such painting purchased under such circumstances, you may want too look into that AA thing)
The Bathroom: Well, it will certainly wake you up, but once again, you will have to explain it to family and friends. (of course, it may reduce the amount of impromptu visits by family members)
The Office: Yeah... and HR (and Maintanance) might want to have a word with you. And you still have to pay off the bloody bill.
The Basement: That's right.. tick off the insects.. never wise. they know where you live and reasoning with them is out of the question (And if you are thinking this, you may want to take note about my comment above regarding psychological testing and discussions of AA)
Ladies and Gentlemen, such actions must end. And we, at PADAP can help you.
This is not a call to end art purchases.. Oh no.. not at all. But we must be in a sober and sane state of mind. Our purchases should be with reason, and not under the influense of products from California, Mexico, Spain, Ten. Billy's Basement (or any location where you favourite (or acceptable) alcohol may come from.
So join my plea...Yes, VISA will curse your name. American Express will shake their fist at you in disgust. Mastercard will stare at you with contempt. Discover Card? (well, who takes them anyway?) But won't you feel better knowing that you did right by your finances? That you won't have to explain your purchase with the preface of..."Well.. its a funny story and one that I don't quite remember." when your guests ask "What in the world were you thinking?"
Yes my fellow lush's. Live, drink and be Merry.. but keep your art purchases confined to the sober moments in your life.
I'm a pretty easy going chap, with a good (if quirky) sense of humour.. who loves to travel. Umm.. Strike that.. who NEEDS to travel. (its my love, my passion, my therapy...)
I've been told that I'm pretty unique, in a good way. (stop giving me that look reserved for the nut in the back of the room).