Monday, November 16, 2015

Anyone who has moved twice or more in one year knows that it is a ton of work and stress. There are those people who can black it out like childbirth the second that it's over. I'm not one of those people.

Luckily, I saved the phone number of Lucien, the workman who I met when he knocked a hole in our wall at our first Italian home. He has a friend, Luciano, with a van and they moved us for a fraction of the price of what professional movers would have wanted to climb up all of those flights of stairs.

It is also lucky that I saved his number because the first night we got here I heard this Italian folk music blasting and I had a huge panic attack that I had made another mistake. T pointed out to me that it was just a tattooed man, lying top half naked in bed across the courtyard from us, singing into some kind of karaoke system. Ahhh Italy. Let me explain that better: Lucien and Luciano are going to be putting in some insulated windows for us in the coming months because I don't want to feel the fool after all we've been through.

Even T loves this house. And she is a teenager. They don't love anything that's not on youtube. It is a jaw dropper. When the painters are done, I'm going to put up a full video tour so you can see it all. F and I have been putting in twelve hour days doing home improvement stuff. That dedicated man has made countless trips up the stairs with boxes and even convinced our dear sweet friends, the father and son team of Antonio and Andrea to help him.

There is a lurking anxiety because I haven't heard from our old landlord and I may get a call involving a lot of hand gestures that I can't see. We sent him the require official letter to break the rental contract in a way that he has to sign for it, but until I get the receipt from that I fear that there will be some repercussions. That, and the fact that we painted some of his crappy furniture white and left the walls of what we are calling muffa house covered with black mould over the white walls that he prefers to have a canary yellow and with his precious seventies inspired wall motif covered in masking tape.

F and I are really busting a move because T's birthday is on Saturday and we want to have the house nice for her birthday party. We still have to paper the kitchen cupboards, have the painters fill in some big cracks in the ceilings, put in the chandeliers, hang up some art work and make covers for two couches.

Considering that we didn't even know about unicorn house eleven days ago and we signed the contract the day after seeing it, moved in three days later over a period of 48 hours, we are pretty much the speediest fixer uppers this side of the Mediterranean.

Today the Internet technician broke up with us via text message. To get back at him I tried to sign up with a different company but they think my codice fiscale is fake because I'm American so I had to call them. I got a pleasant guy named Franco and I was doing well until he asked for my bank number. It is a 27 digit number that I don't know and couldn't find in our files readily. I had a bit of an embarrassing fit of nerves and asked him to call back. Good news, Franco, I told him when he called back. I found the longest number ever!

 Our conversation was unnerving because he kept asking me for more and more personal data, and I kept thinking about identity theft. Then he told me that someone would call me back and that I had to keep saying yes. Someone called me shortly thereafter and I felt rebellious. I started asking questions. Poor Franco then said that he had to start all over again. The second time I told him he was talking too fast and he had to start all over again. He was like for the love of all that is good and holy, m'aam, this is being recorded. JUST SAY YES. This is all in Italian, of course. Then finally he got through it and said that I could ask questions. I was tempted to barrage him with the same questions he asked me, but I just told him that I could believe how James Bond all this just got and that they surely didn't pay him enough. Finally, that got a laugh out of him. Then a lady called me and I just yessed her all up because they have all my personal information by now and she didn't have the tone of someone with a sense of humor. The jokes on me because they aren't sending a technician for five days anyway.

Meanwhile, I am drowning in lesson planning and I can't get the Internet to work long enough to get anything done. I can't wait to show you the new house, though. Hang with me a few days and I'll get you a good viewing.

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