Moving Misfortune

For months, I have dreamed of my new apartment. I looked forward to the beautiful red and gray accent walls, the proximity to my favorite bars, and the glossy hardwood floors that do not absorb the scent of dog pee. Oh yes, I have long awaited the day where I no longer live in a home that smells equal parts port-o-potty and Febreeze. At last, I can entertain guests without cooking something delicious to kill the tantalizing scent of dog urine.

Today was the day. This morning, I sprang out of my bed like a fucking tree frog. I was so excited about the big move that I nearly peed my pants before making it to the toilet. Which is about the time I realized that I already packed the toilet paper. But not even that could bring me down.

After making it through a full three hours at work (okay, fine, it was two and a half), I drove straight to the new place and picked up the key. I could feel the magic surrounding it – I held in my hands the key to my future.

When I walked in, it seemed perfect. The wall was the most velvety shade of red and I could have just burst at its beauty. Life was grand. That is, until I looked down. And there it was… carpet. Fuzzy, stupid, odor-absorbing carpet rearing its ugly head all throughout my living and dining room. Hell. No.

After I recovered from a mild heart attack, I made my way to the leasing office. I felt so badly telling the poor saleslady that I was promised hardwood, because I know it wasn’t her fault. But what on earth could I do? I asked them at least five times, probably ten, if I would have wood floors. I told them this was an absolute requirement for living here. My dogs would inevitably rip the edges of the carpet into tiny shards of death that they would proceed to vomit onto my bed. But only after thoroughly christening the floor.

I could see my new future. Bleak. New-York-Subway scented. There went any chance I had of bringing those pups home a sexy new daddy.

A couple of hours later, I met with the manager. And let me tell you, that man is a saint. He gave me the best news my ears could have heard: he would install hardwoods. Right now. Tonight. With the mood I was in, he could have gotten laid from uttering that sentence. Tell me more about the hardwood, baby.

So now, we are back on track. Kind of. Okay, so they are stripping my floor while I sit in a community lounge and all of my shit is in a hallway. But I am trying to look at the bright side, here. I may have to move all of those stupid boxes of shoes by myself later, but at least I will be moving them onto a gorgeous hardwood floor with not the slightest trace of canine excrement. It’s the little things.

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5 thoughts on “Moving Misfortune

  1. McMademoiselle Likes says:

    What a great manager! And you kow what, considering how helpful he’s been with the whole carpet v. hardwood thingy, you know that if there’s any further issue he will be there to help.
    Good luck with all the unpacking now, and welcome to your new home!

  2. singlenocats says:

    Wow- you took that rather well! I’m glad everything worked out! Enjoy your new home πŸ™‚

  3. rmv says:

    however will you thank him…??? ;]

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