The Day of Moving.

The eagerly anticipated moving day had arrived. We were moving from our one room apartment into what is best described as a massive box. But, being massive it does mean we have a lot more space. There will be no more washing drying in the prime spot in front of the TV, no more running to the fridge that only fits into the apartment if it is kept the furthest distance away from the kitchen area that is humanly possible and, no more lazy crawls under the covers from the bed-cum-sofa-cum-dining table. We will now actually have to walk from the living room into the bedroom to go to bed. It just won’t be the same. 

After the minefield of finding a suitable apartment that was a). available b). in our price range and c). existed, it was a relief to know that we would move into a place before we went on our holidays. Between the language barrier and the Korean specifics of apartment hunting it was quite the task. The only minor issue being that we had no idea what time we would be moving, how the moving would take place and which exact apartment in the building would be ours. As we sat, nervously texting one another, surrounded by boxes in our individual one rooms for the last time, it occured to us that nothing would be final until we were physically moved in, with keys in hand. 

Now, it is natural to worry at times like these but we should have known that all of our concerns were wasted on the two caretakers from the school who showed up, only a little late and ready to go. Before we knew it the wheels were in motion, one load of boxes had already been dropped off at the new building and my place was next to be emptied. The look of shock on their faces was priceless. They looked around and took in the scale of the job. The few boxes at the other place were nothing compared to the furniture that had to be taken from my apartment. I almost felt sorry for them, they had been tricked into thinking this would be an easy afternoons work. They did it though, to their credit and the only thing scarier than watching the men half carry, half throw the washing machine down the 3 flights of stairs to the pick up truck waiting at the door, was walking behind the fully loaded truck as it moaned and heaved its way down the road. Things were piled up in every which way. All I could do was watch from behind as the microwave lunged towards the sides and chairs slid across the pile of my sad looking things. Unorthodox as their methods were, they did successfully complete their mission, we moved and the furniture is still holding together, at least for now.


About Happily Lost

A travel junkie working as an English teacher in South Korea.
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