the long and winding road [part 1]

26 September, 2007 | Leave a Comment

All of my boxes from Paris arrived last week in perfect condition. Fancy that. I wrote that I wasn’t sure if the guy I hired was legit or not, but he was. I also wrote that I didn’t care if he stole all of my stuff. I really did feel that way at the time. Most of what was in those boxes has been shipped from the US to Britain to France and now back to Britain. I’ve packed and unpacked them numerous times, paid movers to cart them around, stored them by greatly imposing on people, lifted them until my back ached, etc. I was just plain tired of the hassle. I could have probably replaced everything inside of those boxes for half the price of what it cost to move them so many times. [Here are the legendary boxes when I first packed them up last summer. They're much more tattered now.]

I had more stuff stored here in London too and tonight I got my five boxes back from Nicole, who had kept them for more than a year! Not only that, but she had to endure countless e-mails from me over the past few weeks changing the day I was coming to pick them up at least 10,000 times until finally tonight I just (practically) found some guy off the street to drive to her place and get them for me. [I have single-handedly kept the "man with a van" industry in London and Paris afloat.] I still can’t believe someone in London and someone in Paris was kind enough to come to my rescue and store these damn boxes. See, not everyone I meet is evil.

Now I have all my things back under one roof for the first time in more than a year. Even though I was dreading getting all of these boxes back, the good news is that now that I have them, I am thrilled to bits! This was unexpected, but as I unpacked them I discovered all my favorite books, my iPod speakers, pairs of shoes I forgot I had, my slow cooker, dishes and teacups, my wooden Virginia Woolf sculpture (oh be quiet) and all sorts of other fun stuff. You’ll be pleased to know that my beloved pig mugs survived their journey from Paris, as did my statue of the Virgin Mary. I’ve got my jewelry back and my picture frames and my aromatherapy burner. Bliss.

After literally nine months of living out of a suitcase, I am finally home.

bibliophilia.jpg

Does anyone have a spare bookshelf?

Anglofille said @ 2:01 am | personal |   

Comments

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  1. yeah - we might. We’re looking to replace some of our bookcases. They’re not great though.

  2. I went through the same thing last month. Sent my boxes over here from Portugal via a van driver who was quite cheap what created lots of anxiety from my side. It wound up that he even had a cup of tea with my friends upon arrival. Funny thing that he arrived at my friend’s exactly at the same time I landed in Stansted. I am only going to start unpacking now, moved to my new room yesterday. Hope you can arrange things satifactorily ;-)

  3. Hmmm, I wonder who bought you that wooden Virginia Woolf statue all those years ago in some out-of-the-way bookstore in Germany and then lugged it thousands of miles to get it to you? Hmmmm, I wonder.

    You really shouldn’t use that word “bliss” all singular by itself and everything. It has evil connotations (to some of us) and causes a sudden shiver up the spine.

  4. Vol: I might be inheriting an Ikea reject from someone, but if I get desperate I’ll let you know! I have such limited space in here.

    Daniela: I’m glad your boxes arrived safely! When they’re picked up, you always wonder if you’ll ever see them again. It’s quite a relief when they’re actually delivered.

    SpliceGirl: I was waiting for you to take credit for the statute of VW. You didn’t let me down! As for Bliss, I *love* that word. You should re-claim it from the right-wing skank, but it’ll take time before you can really use it again.

  5. Whoa! Did I read that correctly? You have a statue of the Virgin Mary (albeit a very kitschy one)? That requires further elaboration. Please explain.

    Sure people want sausage (i.e. Jesus) but they don’t want to see sausage being made (i.e. virgin birth).

    What about Joseph in all this. The guy didn’t know what he was getting into. He unknowingly marries a woman who turns out to be The Mother of God, and he can never have sex with her. Geez no wonder the guy is a saint.

    He must have been getting his needs met elsewhere:

    Joseph: Ummm Mary, I have a big carpentry job over at Mary Madeline’s place today.

    Mary: Ok Joseph, now with little Jesus on the way, you’ll be providing for three of us soon.

    Joseph: Sure, the price of Milk & Honey is always going up.

    Mary: Be careful. That Mary Madeline is a known prostitute. Word is that the Pharisees are planning on stoning her. Don’t let her try to seduce you.

    Joseph: Don’t worry, I’ll be to busy nailing her…I mean nailing her door frame together to notice…definitely nailing the door frame together.

  6. It was my pleasure m’dear!

  7. Gadfleye, you are going directly to Hell! As for my statue, I love Christian art and architecture — crosses, angels, cathedrals, madonnas. I got that statue of Mary at the Vatican gift shop about ten years ago. Mary is my homegirl.

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