one day of scrubbing isn't enough
Despite several late nights in a row, I woke up early this morning because I didn't want to miss my meeting with the owner of The Closet (as I've named my new home). This gave me time to get to the post office, where I posted the forms to the shipping company in England who is dealing with my stuff as it clears customs from Australia before heading to me here, and paid the fee for the Italian class in which I've enrolled. Then a quick stop at a store to buy some fresh sponges and a new broom (the student housing I've been staying at had a broom, so I haven't needed one yet) and, more importantly to break a 50 euro note--I wanted to have exact change for the cash portion of my transaction to obtain The Closet.
The meeting took ages. First the relator filled in ever so much information onto the contract including our passport numbers, dates and locations of birth, etc. Then he had to re-write it all when he read out what he'd written and the owner mentioned that he's moved, so the address listed isn't correct (the address they put down for me is about to be incorrect, but they didn't seem to care about that). Then the relator read out the entire contract out loud. In Italian. So I've heard every word. Didn't understand any of them, but I signed anyway (what else can you do?). After that I handed over the printouts showing I'd done the bank-transfers for the owner and for the agency (two different transfers) and the cash for the agency and the owner (two different amounts). Then the relator looked at what he'd written last week about how much each transaction should be (which is what I paid) and read that out, typing each number into a calculator, was interrupted by the owner saying something animated, and the relator read out the numbers again, and punched buttons on the calculator again. (I asked my colleague if something was wrong, but he said only "wait".) This process was repeated many times, with the relator looking very slightly more frustrated (but always trying to keep his professional cool). He said "quattrocento venticinque" so many times I've learned the number based on how it sounds. Eventually, he managed to convince the owner that the numbers were correct. After that we signed the forms, I got my keys, and we were free to go.
My day involved three different trips to a hardware store and much scrubbing. Am I the only person in the world who cleans the top of kitchen cabinets before moving out? Every apartment I've ever moved into had dirty tops of cabinets, and this one was no exception. Ruined a brand new sponge on that step alone. It was clear that the apartment had been cleaned before I got it, but by someone who pays little attention to detail, and was only going for a very quick surface cleaning of the most visible areas. Under, behind, and on top of everything needed work. I also had to replace the missing toilet seat cover and buy some hardware to fix the clothes cabinet. I've managed most of the cleaning, but then I was running out of daylight (the apartment is in need of some additional lighting, but, alas, the local hardware doesn't carry lights at all, so I'll have to find another store for that--fortunately I've got the "cash" part of the rent to pay (over and above what is written in the contract)--they told me to buy what the house needs and give the owner the receipts--so I will--the envelope containing the cash will contain the total cash minus what I bought for the house, and I'll stick in the receipts. Hopefully he will be good with that, but if he doesn't like it I won't understand him anyway). The rest of the cleaning, and the repairs to the cabinet and obtaining lights and shelves and moving will have to wait for another day.
Whilst scrubbing The Closet I did have one adventure brought about by being a bit too tired to think clearly. One of the tasks I decided upon for the day was moving the washing machine to a new location. I'd observed that the water hoses attached to the machine were plenty long enough to reach the new, improved, location. However, this goal was complicated by a minor problem. The kitchen sink/counter is both up off the floor standing on legs and attached to the wall behind. The washer hoses come out from the wall behind the sink, then pass along the floor under the cabinet and out between the legs of the cabinet to the back of the washer. In order to move the washer to the other wall it was necessary to get those hoses out from between the legs. Since the back of the cabinet is firmly affixed to the wall it wasn't possible to lift the legs and slide the hose under.
Therefore I decided to unhook the hoses. I did pause long enough to look under the cabinet and determine that the hoses disappear up somewhere behind the cabinet itself, with no sign of any kind of valve or attachment point visible. I started unscrewing the water inlet hose from the washer itself. It started dripping a bit of water as I unscrewed. I glanced again under the cabinet--nope, couldn't see any valves--they'd be up somewhere behind the cabinet. I thought "ok, better make this quick", pulled the bucket in reach and under where I was working and unscrewed the hose the rest of the way. Result: water gushing out of the hose at a very high rate of speed. oops. Quick! Put end of hose into the bucket. Bucket is very rapidly filling. Eeep! Stand up, move end of hose into sink. It *just* reaches. Now what? I can't let go, the hose would fall on the floor and gush water every were. Finally, at long last, and not a moment too soon, my brain wakes up. Open under-sink cabinet. Look in. Oh, look! Someone punched a hole in the back of the cabinet before attaching it to the wall so that one can reach the shut-off valve. Shut valve. Water stops. Pick up sponges (one in each hand) and commence moving the water from the floor into the bucket. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
It is a very good thing that this afternoon was on the warm side. I'd dressed in jeans and a t-shirt this morning, since it was coolish at 06:30 when I got up (and I knew I didn't want to wear my new skirt for house-cleaning), but by afternoon it was too hot to work wearing that much, so I'd taken everything off and was working nude, so when the kitchen floor and I got our shower it was just me getting wet, not my clothing. Oddly enough, once I'd managed to get the floor dry(ish), I decided to call it a day, since my brain was clearly not functioning.
That is why I didn't get any uni work done today. I suppose I *could* have tried doing some after cleaning, but given my demonstration of the brain not thinking things through, it is probably best that I didn't. Perhaps tomorrow I'll get the house ready to move into. I hope so. It takes only two minutes to walk down the four flights of stairs from The Closet, cross the street, walk up one flight of stairs and down the hall to my office. I'm looking forward to that commute. I'd also like to get the moving done ASAP so that I can return to the uni work. I want those experiments started, I want those papers ready to submit. Preferably before I hear back from my thesis examiners with a list of corrections to be made.
The meeting took ages. First the relator filled in ever so much information onto the contract including our passport numbers, dates and locations of birth, etc. Then he had to re-write it all when he read out what he'd written and the owner mentioned that he's moved, so the address listed isn't correct (the address they put down for me is about to be incorrect, but they didn't seem to care about that). Then the relator read out the entire contract out loud. In Italian. So I've heard every word. Didn't understand any of them, but I signed anyway (what else can you do?). After that I handed over the printouts showing I'd done the bank-transfers for the owner and for the agency (two different transfers) and the cash for the agency and the owner (two different amounts). Then the relator looked at what he'd written last week about how much each transaction should be (which is what I paid) and read that out, typing each number into a calculator, was interrupted by the owner saying something animated, and the relator read out the numbers again, and punched buttons on the calculator again. (I asked my colleague if something was wrong, but he said only "wait".) This process was repeated many times, with the relator looking very slightly more frustrated (but always trying to keep his professional cool). He said "quattrocento venticinque" so many times I've learned the number based on how it sounds. Eventually, he managed to convince the owner that the numbers were correct. After that we signed the forms, I got my keys, and we were free to go.
My day involved three different trips to a hardware store and much scrubbing. Am I the only person in the world who cleans the top of kitchen cabinets before moving out? Every apartment I've ever moved into had dirty tops of cabinets, and this one was no exception. Ruined a brand new sponge on that step alone. It was clear that the apartment had been cleaned before I got it, but by someone who pays little attention to detail, and was only going for a very quick surface cleaning of the most visible areas. Under, behind, and on top of everything needed work. I also had to replace the missing toilet seat cover and buy some hardware to fix the clothes cabinet. I've managed most of the cleaning, but then I was running out of daylight (the apartment is in need of some additional lighting, but, alas, the local hardware doesn't carry lights at all, so I'll have to find another store for that--fortunately I've got the "cash" part of the rent to pay (over and above what is written in the contract)--they told me to buy what the house needs and give the owner the receipts--so I will--the envelope containing the cash will contain the total cash minus what I bought for the house, and I'll stick in the receipts. Hopefully he will be good with that, but if he doesn't like it I won't understand him anyway). The rest of the cleaning, and the repairs to the cabinet and obtaining lights and shelves and moving will have to wait for another day.
Whilst scrubbing The Closet I did have one adventure brought about by being a bit too tired to think clearly. One of the tasks I decided upon for the day was moving the washing machine to a new location. I'd observed that the water hoses attached to the machine were plenty long enough to reach the new, improved, location. However, this goal was complicated by a minor problem. The kitchen sink/counter is both up off the floor standing on legs and attached to the wall behind. The washer hoses come out from the wall behind the sink, then pass along the floor under the cabinet and out between the legs of the cabinet to the back of the washer. In order to move the washer to the other wall it was necessary to get those hoses out from between the legs. Since the back of the cabinet is firmly affixed to the wall it wasn't possible to lift the legs and slide the hose under.
Therefore I decided to unhook the hoses. I did pause long enough to look under the cabinet and determine that the hoses disappear up somewhere behind the cabinet itself, with no sign of any kind of valve or attachment point visible. I started unscrewing the water inlet hose from the washer itself. It started dripping a bit of water as I unscrewed. I glanced again under the cabinet--nope, couldn't see any valves--they'd be up somewhere behind the cabinet. I thought "ok, better make this quick", pulled the bucket in reach and under where I was working and unscrewed the hose the rest of the way. Result: water gushing out of the hose at a very high rate of speed. oops. Quick! Put end of hose into the bucket. Bucket is very rapidly filling. Eeep! Stand up, move end of hose into sink. It *just* reaches. Now what? I can't let go, the hose would fall on the floor and gush water every were. Finally, at long last, and not a moment too soon, my brain wakes up. Open under-sink cabinet. Look in. Oh, look! Someone punched a hole in the back of the cabinet before attaching it to the wall so that one can reach the shut-off valve. Shut valve. Water stops. Pick up sponges (one in each hand) and commence moving the water from the floor into the bucket. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
It is a very good thing that this afternoon was on the warm side. I'd dressed in jeans and a t-shirt this morning, since it was coolish at 06:30 when I got up (and I knew I didn't want to wear my new skirt for house-cleaning), but by afternoon it was too hot to work wearing that much, so I'd taken everything off and was working nude, so when the kitchen floor and I got our shower it was just me getting wet, not my clothing. Oddly enough, once I'd managed to get the floor dry(ish), I decided to call it a day, since my brain was clearly not functioning.
That is why I didn't get any uni work done today. I suppose I *could* have tried doing some after cleaning, but given my demonstration of the brain not thinking things through, it is probably best that I didn't. Perhaps tomorrow I'll get the house ready to move into. I hope so. It takes only two minutes to walk down the four flights of stairs from The Closet, cross the street, walk up one flight of stairs and down the hall to my office. I'm looking forward to that commute. I'd also like to get the moving done ASAP so that I can return to the uni work. I want those experiments started, I want those papers ready to submit. Preferably before I hear back from my thesis examiners with a list of corrections to be made.