You’ll remember from the Idling in Chong Qing post that Sam texted me on that last day in that city. I was to teach all day Saturday. Upon my return to Wuhan I leapt into my call of duty, regardless of having slept only fitfully aboard the train. I taught class in blue jeans and a t-shirt and boots, having only changed into that classroom-appropriate footwear in the taxi from the train station. My hair was flying in every direction and makeup application was done as the train jostled and jerked into town. In short… sure! I was ready to teach all day!
Saturday morning I was to meet my freshmen for the first time – formally, that is. I had met most of them while out and about on campus. All that morning the idea was in the back of my mind: what does my little house look like? Sam had texted me while I was frolicking with Gary and Mask that my new furniture had arrived. I was nearly beside myself with anticipation. The apartment itself is lovely in spite of its problems; now I just wanted to go see it and settle into it and maybe unpack and stop living out of suitcases for the first time in four months. Oh, and parking my behind on something other than the world’s ugliest couch or those Playskool chairs also had a certain draw.
I taught my four periods on autopilot. Then, shouldering my luggage and psyching myself up for the traipse across campus toward where I am now to hang my hat, I heard Sam hail me. He teaches right next door to me and had a crowd of freshmen to initiate as well. “Should we have lunch together?” Who am I to refuse lunch? I told him I would just take a minute to throw my bag into my apartment and we could go to the nearby shopping area at the back of campus to grab a bowl of noodles.
My friends, I’m trying really hard to find the words to describe my feeling upon opening my front door. To say I was dismayed would be like saying ‘it is a little cold in Alaska’. Shocked, disconcerted, perturbed, rocked, poleaxed… none of them really fit, although poleaxed might just come very close. You could have knocked me over with a feather when I opened my door. If you do knock me over with that feather, please scrape my jaw off the ground first so that I don’t land on it and break it.
THERE WAS FURNITURE EVERYWHERE! The movers brought the new furniture in, but did not remove the old furniture. My home was now the proud harbor of two couches, two wardrobes, two dining sets, two coffee tables… and one brand new refrigerator, still in its box. Furthermore, as hard as I had tried to clean the house in that week before going out of town, it was all in vain because again there was dust, mud and dirt everywhere. And now I couldn’t clean it for all of the furniture stacked haphazardly throughout the place.
So much for my embarrassment at Sam having to remove my dainties from the old wardrobe before they cart it away.
Am I ready to roll up my sleeves and start flinging furniture into place? Why, no! After lunch I have two more classes to teach. THEN I’ll be able to attempt to make two homes worth of furniture fit into one 800sq. ft. apartment. After that I might go through my stuff and locate my giant bottle of Tylenol. Or maybe before.
You’ll remember from “The Morning After” post that I had at least gotten the living and dining rooms cleaned and organized. Also, I had the bed ready to sleep in and the office furniture placed. Still didn’t know what I was going to do about the dryer and wasn’t wild about the washer being on the balcony, on the shady side of the building, at that. The new kitchen doesn’t have the cabinet space or room for everything that the old apartment’s kitchen housed. The bathroom only has a tiny cabinet supporting a sink. That would do for toilet paper storage but not much else. And the mirror, the only one in the house is hung to ‘Chinese height’, cutting off the top of my head.
Other things wrong: no hot water anywhere in the house, even though I have a hot water heater in the bathroom, suspended high on the wall, that I nearly bang my head into every time I get up from the toilet. The showerhead bracket, broken during installation, lay on the windowsill. The showerhead itself, at the end of its flexible hose, was draped across the taps. Presumably I was to hold it over my head with one hand while washing with the other. Bathroom windows are plain glass, offering everyone who wants one a view of all of my bathroom activities. Glue stains left on the floor throughout the apartment from the workmen while they were putting things together in the apartment like doorways and windows. While the glue has long since dried it prevents to smooth and easy slide of furniture across the floor, and it attracts and harbors dirt. No handle to open the living room balcony door with. No water tap installed for the washer yet. No internet connection.
Nah, Nothing insurmountable here, just small aggravations.
And no one to vent to but you. Thanks for listening. I’m ready for your suggestions. Next post… next post will be time enough.
No comments:
Post a Comment