Return to Sender: Movin' On Up

But oh, what surprises awaited you there! You see, aside from all the stuff you'd loaded in your truck, there were two Door to Door containers outside the house, filled with stuff from my old apartment, and roughly doubling the number of boxes, if not the amount of furniture, you'd need to take upstairs. I watched in awe as you, unable to use a dolly to get to our second-floor walk-up, said no problem to the extra unloading and carried the boxes on your backs. You didn't drop anything. You didn't break anything. You took the time to ask me where to put the less-clearly labeled boxes, rather than just dumping them wherever you saw fit. You unloaded my things in a flash, and when it came time to move on to Ross's, you were still undaunted. Even the dresser, which the furniture store movers had struggled with in a building with an elevator, was no problem to you as you moved it up not one, but two flights of stairs.

Only the sofa gave you pause. Although before signing our lease, we had measured the entry stairwell's width and height, what we'd failed to take notice of was the angle of the door at the top of it. The angle that meant the ceiling above it was framed into a triangle. It's architecturally pleasing, to be sure, but you were sure it would inhibit the couch moving.

How right you were. The sofa made it up the stairs, the front end almost made it in the door, and then there was nowhere to go. Back down it went while one of you measured our windows, one of you called another guy on your team who lived in the neighborhood, and the third went back to your garage (which, despite your name, is [conveniently] in Northern Liberties and not Old City) to get straps. In forty minutes, the rest of the truck had been unloaded while Ross and I stood on the sidewalk and glared at anyone who seemed to think our couch was fair game. In forty-five minutes, you were removing our windows from their frames. In sixty minutes, the sofa was bundled and standing on its end. Two of you were on the third floor, ready to pull the sofa with all your strength. One of you was on the second floor, ready to catch the sofa as soon as it neared the window and pull it in. And one of you was on the street, under the sofa, either to keep it straight during the initial lifting or to break its fall should one of the straps break. If it was the latter, then you get an extra commendation for your commitment to not damaging our sofa. (I kid.)

In sixty-five minutes, the sofa was situated in the living room. That's right: five whole minutes was all it took. A week later, and I'm still in awe.

We still have a ton of unpacked boxes, and there's still plenty of stuff we have to move from the old place (mostly the contents of the refrigerator, which, admittedly, are likely all garbage bound), but I want to thank you (and so does Ross, but he doesn't get to write a weekly column in the form of an open letter, so I'm thanking you for both of us) for making the bulk of our move so easy and, with the exception of the heart attack I almost had when I first saw our sofa leave the ground, drama free. And so, John, Julian, Joe, and Matt (who was only there long enough to help lift the sofa, but still more than earned his tip), thank you, thank you, thank you. I'll sing your praises to anyone who asks.

Meanwhile, guys, keep July 16, 2010 on your calendars. That's our expected move-out date, and we'll need you to help us get the sofa back down.

Old City Movers' logo via their website. If you're moving soon, call them.