Ryan asks this every few days.
But not like he's actually asking to go back to our apartment.
It's more like when he asks if he can watch Dragon Tales, when I know that he knows it's been off the air for three years. He's just checking in to make sure he's right - to confirm nothing has changed.
His voice stays very calm while he's asking, he actually waits for me to answer him (that in itself is a big deal), and when I reply that the apartment is empty and all our stuff is at the new house, he goes about his business.
I'm beyond impressed by how maturely he has been processing this move. He still refers to where we live now as "the new house" and not "home," but hey, so do I.
On the subject of moving, I feel the need to warn any readers in the greater New York area about the horrible moving company we had the misfortune of using. Travel Van Lines, which also does business as Certified Van Lines, comes off as really professional and experienced over the phone, but on the job, they're incompetent at best, criminal at worst.
We chose them based on their low estimate and the customer service rep's statement that all their movers had been working for them for years. The job wound up costing DOUBLE the estimate, and one of the three workers was in his first week on the job.
The woman we spoke with estimated this would be a four-hour job. After the guys had been loading the truck for a solid six hours, we asked them to stop packing the truck and start driving; it took 4 packed carloads and a borrowed pickup truck to haul what they didn't get around to.
The movers managed to break three pieces of furniture, including a nightstand made of solid oak.
|Seriously, our bedroom set is our only set of non-Ikea furniture, and they managed to break off the whole corner.|
The real pain in the ass, however, is that they somehow forgot to unload one box. A really big box - like, over three feet high. A box that contains all of Stu's work clothes, the charger for his electric razor, and the spare key for his car. A box worth about $1,000 to us.
I called them as soon as we realized we didn't have the box. I left messages for days. Someone eventually confirmed our box was at their warehouse in New Jersey. I was assured they would deliver it right away, tomorrow, as soon as we have a truck in the area, Saturday morning. It's been two weeks, and Stu still has no clothes. The guy we yelled at today insists they will put the box on a truck that's headed up to Rhode Island in the morning, but I'll believe it when I see it.
I have already submitted a complaint to the BBB, filed a report with the local police, and written some nasty online reviews, but until Stu has a second pair of pants in his closet, I'm going to continue to spread the word about these jerks.
UPDATE: It's Monday morning, and a truck just delivered the box. At least, I think it's a box.