As of last Friday, the Tiny Fun House has a new location, near 82nd and York. If you are scoring at home, that is eight blocks north of the original version. But, as dedicated readers of this space, you probably already know that. So, I’ll concentrate on some behind-the-scenes details about the moving process.
First off, I’d like to applaud Pete and Melissa for once again orchestrating a memorable, unpredictable and exciting relocation experience. Knowing that you will be physically, intellectually and emotionally challenged on the job really makes all the difference to those of us who have dedicated our lives (or one summer in college, as the case may be) to the professional moving and storage industry.
I have to admit, however, that I had my doubts as to whether it was possible to top the 2007 Arlington-townhouse-to-fifth-floor-NYC-apartment-plus-three-storage-units-in-two-states transfer. But I should have known better. The Thomsons really know how to bring it when it comes to moving.
Indeed, careful assessment of wide-ranging details allowed Pete and Melissa to design a relocation steeplechase the likes of which few movers have encountered before. With surprises around every corner (was that good Samaritan who jump-started the rented Budget truck a man or a woman?), the weekend was full of action.
Based on their model, here’s a quick guide to building your own relocation steeplechase at home:
1. Obtain an extremely tiny apartment on the top floor of a walk-up building in the most densely populated city in your home country.
2. Spend a year filling that extremely tiny apartment with stuff.
3. At the end of the year, lease a new apartment in another building, taking special care to ensure that the two leases do not overlap–even for a minute.
4. Rent a double-axle moving truck that is too tall for most underpasses and, it turns out, illegal for most city streets according to the polite-but-stern law enforcement officials.
5. Double park said truck on the street in front of your old apartment, taking care to seal off an open parking space against the curb which will taunt and tempt all passers-by for hours.
6. At the suggestion of your out-of-town moving consultant, turn on the emergency blinkers in your rented truck as early in the day as possible and leave them on.*
7. Begin filling the truck with boxes and furniture from the fifth-floor apartment.
8. If you are the out-of-town moving consultant, pause to take a nap in the bed of the truck midway through the afternoon while the leasee continues working. For your safety, make sure to awkwardly wrap your leg around a futon support to avoid falling out of the truck while you slumber. Under no circumstances should you start the truck to recharge the quickly-dissipating battery.*
9. After dark, attempt to move the truck and locate an illegal parking space for your illegal truck.
10. Fail due to battery failure.
11. Use the blocked parking spot as a bargaining chip to convince an SUV driver to jump-start your rental truck.
12. Locate a restaurant maître d’ on a smoke break to help you find a parking spot for your large truck. Celebrate the fact that, most likely, you will not have to spend the night guarding the truck alongside the Jersey Turnpike.
13. Illegally sleep on the floor of the now nearly empty apartment with the plan to get up early to avoid a surprise encounter with the painters who are due at some unknown (but assumed ungodly) hour the following morning.
14. Arise a bit later than hoped. Pass the painters on the stairs in the morning as you carry your mattresses down to the truck. Hope it is still there and hasn’t been towed.
15. Relish in victory when the truck is still in its parking space.
16. Quickly realize you still have to empty the truck.
17. Maneuver the truck to the new apartment, working around aggressive big-city street cleaning schedule and law enforcement policies.
18. Bargain with the UPS man to take over his illegal parking spot in front of a fire hydrant.
19. Carry stuff up to the new apartment. Make sure to mark your territory by leaving a body-sized sweat and dirt stain on the clear glass door to the new apartment building.
20. Start the countdown until the next move: now 360 days and counting.
*[Editor's note: In fairness to our consultant and guest contributor: I don't recall whose idea it was to turn on the blinkers, but Mark definitely noted that we should run the engine periodically during the day to compensate for battery drain--a suggestion I take sole responsibility for ignoring. -PT]
I think your twenty point steeplechase move plan has the potential to become the next “Everything I Need To Know I Learned In Kindergarten.”
I agree. It is brilliant. There is, however, one burning question left unanswered. Did the futon make the cut?
Yeah! What about the futon? We were planning to reserve it for a week-long NYC vacation in the near future. Where will we find it? In the dump? Chained to the fire escape? In the new place? In the old place? We need answers! NOW!
The people have spoken: Melissa is sitting on it (in the new apartment, indoors) as the people speak.
Normally, the “futon rodeo” is a highlight of our moves, but actually I think it went pretty smoothly this time. Part of that was gravity, and part that we figured out how to dismantle the thing beforehand.
After Mark left, the futon frame underwent repairs to remove and replace a long-broken rubber joint. Here are some photos detailing that process.
Wow, that was a very thorough recap. I actually found the parking spot woes quite suspenseful. I’m not being sarcastic either! Having only heard one side of move-in weekend (the San Diego side) I figured I hadn’t gotten the whole story. I’m very impressed!
I’m not going to lie. I felt rather guilty whilst enjoying mojitos by the beach with one half of the TFH, knowing about moving dance happening 3000 miles away. But I suppose I should relenquish that guilt, as having a third person involved would have been made this whole event downright boring.
And yes, in San Diego, the parking situation was suspenseful. (But not too suspenseful to interfere with the relaxation of getting our nails done.)
The parking situation was TOTALLY stressful in SD. Would we find a free space in time to enjoy our mojitos and still make it to our mani/pedi appointments? Or would we have to pay $8 to the evil parking overlord? Thank goodness for Katie’s eagle eye.
Yep, that sounds totally the same.
The events of the moving steeplechase sound impressive, but I’m more intrigued by the packing process. The fact that you were able to fit lamps, food & snacks, clothes, towels, ‘hobby/crafts’, hats, photos, AND audio all into a SINGLE 2x2x2 BOX is absolutely astouding (as evidenced by the image of Mark above).
If I ever move out of this stuffy apartment, I know who to come to for packing advice.
There was a lot of miscellaneous “detritus” packing going on, but maybe not wide a variety. I will say that the handwriting font used for “clothes” was a little too close to Melissa’s actual handwriting, and led to a number of re-opened boxes in a frantic search for socks.