What not to do when someone is moving
It hasn’t happened yet, but years ago when we moved here at least three people gave us books! Some, after we had packed and shipped things. Yes, nice heavy books. I’m just waiting.
So this morning, I had staggered awake because Ben had an appointment in Arezzo and we had to get ready. I was in the kitchen struggling to produce something that could be called breakfast. When up roared a new, giant, big-ass Range Rover. I’m looking out the window, watching, as this man who might be familiar, gets out and starts frantically unloading boxes. Now I haven’t had my tea yet. That blend of caffeine and sugar that makes me into a semi-nice, reasonable person. I’m watching this man, realizing that I am probably going to have to go out there in the cold and break the news to him that whatever he is delivering most probably does not belong here. I’m pondering if I should be nice and go out now and stop him or just let him continue to unload, when I see Lorenzo, one of the boys who lives upstairs, and his father hanging around. So the light dawns that maybe this does belong here and I don’t need to do anything. By now, the man has found the box he was looking for, a case of wine. Dripping wine. Really dripping wine. I am amused that this has happened in is whoop dee doo car. The man disappears into the garage and comes back with
A BOX OF MINE, THAT IS STORED IN THE GARAGE, THAT I HAVE PACKED, SEALED AND LABELED FOR MOVING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
At this point I am beside myself. Totally unbelievable! He starts to rip the box open. Well that was too much. I fling open the window and yell NO! THAT IS MINE! ‘But I need the carton.’ he whines. At this point, my Italian fails me. I want to say ‘I don’t give a flying fig what you need, you don’t go in to my garage and take out a box that I have packed, sealed and labeled for moving!’ So I just scream NO again. I stomp through the house, pick up an empty wine box, stomp outside in the cold and thrust it at the man. Much bowing and scraping. Blah blah. Back inside. The car roars off. I see that my box has been returned, the dripping box left in the gutter and Lorenzo is coming inside. I go out to speak to Lorenzo, because I want him to know that I am not angry with him, only with the friend of his father’s. And then Lorenzo and I have one of those truly ‘in Italy’ moments. Only in Italy, on a weekday morning before 10 AM would a 14 year old be offering you a selection of slightly moist bottles of wine as a peace offering because he knew his father’s friend had been a jackass. The wine really smells but I take a bottle and send Lorenzo off.
Ben and I go off to his appointment and while driving I remember years ago after my mother died and I was in Florida packing up her house. My brother was there too, being totally useless, so he arranged for his wife and her mother to come and ‘help.’ I think I remember that the first day went well. It was maybe the second or third day that I walked into a room and found both women sitting on a couch, unpacking boxes that I had already packed, sealed and labeled. I think someone carefully took me out of the room and gave me a nice cold beer and told me to just sit down for a bit.
So back to today. Ida (la Mamma) comes home this afternoon, asking about Ben’s appointment and then she starts in on ‘how the father had dropped Lorenzo off this morning. But the agreement had been that Lorenzo would be dropped off this afternoon. And Ida didn’t know that he was here alone. And she didn’t know if he had a key. But she did know that we were gone. And that a phone was broken. And on and on.” So I said, yeah and did Lorenzo tell you what they did? “Yes, I can’t believe it”. Well, come in here with me and look. So into the garage we went and I showed her where the packed box was and how a BIG TWO FEET AWAY IS A STACK OF EMPTY BOXES! We stood there shaking our heads at the whole situation. And Ida turned and said ” you know they only gave us wine because the labels on those bottles were ruined”.
I am holding out hope that no one will give us any books. And for those folks who have questioned why several times a week I load up the car and take the things we are moving away to another location for storage, this morning’s episode would be why. Some people I won’t miss at all. And don’t even look at my boxes, much less open them up.