Enter blind-panic freakout mode.
So you may have heard that there's a bit of a storm coming next week. Normally my reaction to the news programs' collective OMG ARMAGEDDON sensationalism would be "Bitch, please."
However, this hurricane is scheduled to roll over Philadelphia on the day I'm scheduled to move.
ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME.
This being the end of the month, movers are all booked up. My movers called me this morning to say that if we do have a hurricane and they can't move me on Tuesday, the earliest they can move me after that is the following Tuesday. There are no other movers available AT ALL before then, because see aforementioned "end of the month we are all booked" situation.
Normally this wouldn't bother me. I would be all, "Woo-hoo! Another week to pack!" except for the part where I have a lease.
The lease says that if I'm not out by the end of October, I'm on the hook until THE END OF FUCKING FEBRUARY. Now, my feeling about that is NO FUCKING WAY. If I can't move on Tuesday, it will be entirely an act of nature, and no judge in the world is going to hold me to it. Furthermore, there is no one scheduled to move into my apartment in November, because they are going to remodel it.
The property manager told me weeks ago that if I needed an extra day or two, that would be okay. I don't know if she would be okay with an extra WEEK. She is out sick today, so the earliest I would learn her feelings on the subject is Monday, which is, you know, the last possible minute.
I do not do well with uncertainties in my schedule when things are so dependent on precision timing.
I remain astounded that there are people who move every few years for practically no reason other than they're bored with where they live. Who would voluntarily sign up for this sort of hell and hassle when they didn't need to?
I am not even thinking about how if the power goes out or the basement floods, I am now the person who has to deal with it, whether I've moved in or not.