As you can imagine, I jumped up and did a little happy dance when the movers called the husband to tell him they'd be "bringing our house" (as the kiddo said) on Monday. First thought? BED. I could not wait to be able to curl up in my bed again. Our air mattress had already sprung several leaks and was gradually deflating each night while we slept. Throw in some serious pain I woke up in from our mountain climbing excursion and you see where I'm coming from!
Monday morning I woke up at the crack of dawn, rolled up the air mattress (while whistling a happy tune) and... waited. And waited. And waited. Ugh. When were these guys coming? Maybe waking up early (even if it was out of pure excitement) wasn't such a bright idea. Eventually, around 9:30am, Habibi called to tell me the movers were on their way. So I waited. And waited. And waited! An hour later, they arrives and got right to work unloading. They armed me with the inventory list and called out the sticker numbers to cross off as they brought the boxes and furniture in, all while stepping around the kiddo, who was determined to be up everyone's butt since he wasn't allowed to help the movers carry anything in. Eventually cartoons caught his eye and he curled up in front of the TV wrapped burrito-style in his blanket.
The delivery was going well and as we were nearing the last of the boxes, they began to bring in the long, flat FRAGILE boxes that contained my precious paintings. I began to tear them open one by one and pull them out to air, feeling so relieved. I hadn't wanted them to move them and had tried desperately to find a way to fit them into our already-packed SUV to no avail. So to chill me out, the movers had bubble-wrapped each painting, then newspaper-wrapped, then boxed and then boxed THAT box into another box and lebeled each one FRAGILE. Still, I was anxiously awaiting their unpacking.
I was feeling relieved and happy and smiling... and then I turned around to see one of the movers walking through my sliding glass door with a crushed box. A crushed... flat.. FRAGILE... painting box. "OH MY GOD!" I screamed and grabbed the box from him. Not only was it the sight of the crushed box, but knowing exactly which painting was crushed inside; my favourite painting that I had spent an entire day non-stop (no eating, not even bathroom breaks painting and then suffered a week of shoulder, wrist and finger pains for. I tore open that box, pulled out the painting, and screamed. I mean SCREAMED. And then I sat down on the floor, running my fingers over the stretched, warped and frame-dented canvas... and cried. Another mover stood behind me and told me he had a Damage/Loss Claims form I could fill out and be reimbursed for the painting "so I could go out and buy another one, good as new." I felt so angry. "There is no other one! I painted this!" Silence. They walked outside. I called my husband and cried into the phone until he calmed me down.
Looking back on it now, I know the movers just didn't understand. I've been making works of art my whole life and to see one of my most prided pieces mishandled and damaged was just completely disheartening and soul crushing. But to them, I'm sure they figured I'd get over it. In truth, I could take the canvas off of the wooden frame and restretch it... but that's a gamble that could likely damage or crack the paint. I also don't have any of the tools to do it myself. Habibi, bless him, still wants to hang the painting above our bed where it belongs, damage or no damage. But every time I look at it my heart drops.
After I set the painting aside in a safe place (and gave the movers my evil eye of Kimmee doom) we continues with the unloading of the remaining boxes. After all was said and done, we had damaged (crushed) laundry baskets, my damaged painting, cracked/broken pieces and missing support beams to the kiddo's brand new bed, the front plate of his bicycle was broken off and cracked, and my husband's Olympic weight bar and weights had completely vanished off of the truck. Needless to say, the movers were not tipped. Also, while they did put together our bedroom set, they did not attempt to put together the kiddo's bed, nor did they attempt to put together our dining table set or unpack any of the boxes as was stated in the contract that they were supposed to do. Whatever. I'm totally content to unpack myself, thanks. Plus, hey! Free boxes and packing material. We cut the tape off, folded them down and stuffed them all into our storage closet. By the time everything was unloaded, I just wanted the movers gone. And so they went.
For the record, I wanted to DITY. Just saying.
No comments:
Post a Comment