(No, I don’t know what was up with the movers. I’m not going to mention the company by name until we hear their side of the story, but if you happen to stumble on their listing on MovingHelp.com and go through all their ratings—as I should have done—you will see that this wasn’t the first time they had pulled something like this.)
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Around dawn Jeff took the U-Haul away and went to a hotel since he hadn’t slept in about three days. U-Haul set us up with another mover who promised to work us into his schedule. All we had to do was wait.
After they got our stuff upstairs, we could leave the alley. After 12 hours, it felt very liberating. But I also felt a surge of love for our corner of Rogers Park. How can you not love a place where two women can sit on a couch in an alley all night and no one bothers them or tries to steal their stuff, where instead people stop to chat and offer to move couches that belong to complete strangers? And I’m really glad that I feel this way, because Jeff and I have agreed: we are never moving again. We say this every time, but this time, we really mean it.
