do not attempt to measure flame. burns may result.

The past three days have been a hectic, ridiculous blur of activity.  This will be a long entry.

On Saturday, my aunt and uncle drove me and all my shit to the apartment.  Moving in was surprisingly easy; my uncle found a parking spot close by and between him, me, and my roommate Cecilie, we got all my things up to the apartment quickly and easily.  I unpacked my kitchen things and bath things, unrolled my cot mattress and comforter, and fell asleep obscenely early.

Yesterday, I spent most of the day at Ikea.  I finally understand why Ikea is so damn inexpensive - because customer service is almost impossible to come by.  You really have to put on your best sad, lost Bambi eyes in order to get some help in there. 

So, I went into the showroom first, which was very attractively set up but somewhat difficult to navigate, thanks to the bazillion other people there trying to furnish their apartments.  I went into each area and looked at all the items I had already selected from their website.  Once I finished in the showroom, I went down to the self-service furniture area, which was populated by people blindly wandering the aisles with flatbeds, trying to figure out how to get their desired bookcase unit down from a shelf that's approximately two stories up in the air.

After muscling my two chests of drawers, desk, and chair onto a flatbed, I noticed something disturbing.  There was a decided lack of Ikea staff on the floor to help with the large, heavy items, and I had a shit ton of large, heavy items still to procure (including a double bed and a sofa).  After standing at the bin containing my bed (which was on a shelf at my head height) and frowning, unable to fathom a way to get the bed down myself, I abandoned my two flatbeds and tracked down the one guy working in that area.  I gave him my best helpless face, and he grabbed a guy from another department and the two of them helped me get the rest of my things, and then wheel my three flatbeds and one shopping cart up to checkout and delivery.  They were really sweet; I'm sure they had a bunch of other things to do and they didn't have to help me after we got in the checkout line.

 Now.  So, that was all a little overwhelming in and of itself - I've never dropped so much money in one afternoon, and there was just so.  much.  stuff.  A bed, a mattress, two five-drawer chests, a desk, a chair, a couch, a coffee table, a giant paper floor lamp, a nightstand, and lots of small things like water glasses and curtains.  My head was spinning with all of it.

I scheduled for home delivery and assembly for today, and the guys arrived with the stuff around noon.  Everything was going okay at first, until they started nitpicking the order.  For example, the order listed all the pieces I had paid to have assembled.  On that list was a "chest."  This, apparently, is not the same thing as a "five-drawer chest."  A "chest" just has one drawer.  After several minutes of extracting this information from one of the functionally illiterate assembly guys, I was ready to spit nails.

"So you're saying," I said with growing irritation, "you won't build it because it doesn't list that it has five drawers?"
"Yes," said one of the guys.  The other, whose spoken English was much better, added, "We can only build one drawer."
"You're fucking joking.  That's retarded," I exclaimed.  "You're going to build the fucking thing or I want my goddamn money back."

They exchanged a few words and started putting the chest together.  Now, if you remember, I had two chests, but the order only listed one, and they told me they could only build one.  I told them this was fine (Cecilie very kindly offered to help put it together). Somewhere around this time, the Cablevision guy arrived to set up our internet, and the place got hectic.  I then noticed that, very quickly, the guys had assembled both chests of drawers.  They were finished assembling everything, and were now demanding more money to pay for the labor for making that second chest.

"Are you kidding?  I told you guys not to build it!" I said.
In garbled, shifty English, one of them essentially told me, "Well, I built it, so now you have to pay me."
The other guy piped up.  "You have to pay him.  Give him something!"

I was fuming.  I refused to pay, both because they did what I told them not to, but also because I gave the last of my cash to the realtor today to pay for the processing fee for my paperwork.  But they both stood there stonily, not going anywhere.  I asked if they could send a bill, and they gave me some bullshit excuse about how the guy who built the chest didn't actually work for the company and so they couldn't send a bill, and couldn't I just pay him now?  I was thoroughly annoyed - both with them and with myself, for not monitoring them more closely.  But, I had a plan.  I went and got my checkbook, which immediately made both guys' faces fall.

"No cash?" one of them asked.
"No.  Just checks," I replied.  "That's all I've got."

They exchanged a few words, and said they'd take the check.  I gave it to them and told them to leave.  As soon as I shut the door, the first thing I did was call customer service at Ikea, and I filed a formal complaint with the delivery and assembly company.  Then, I called my mother and told her to put a hold on the check.  I'm still furious.  What a load of shit.

But, the upside?  I have a beautiful room and a beautiful living room, and Internet!  Tomorrow I'm going to Target to get a bed skirt and some nails so I can put up my curtain rod.

Not all my adventures today were bad.  I walked up and down my block in the sleet, because I'm curious about the neighborhood and feel like I should try and get used to the cold weather.  Let me tell you, there's all kinds of fun things near me!  I stopped in an ethnic beauty shop and a green grocer and enjoyed the atmosphere and culture.  I'm a little intimidated by everything - I feel like I stick out like a sore thumb, like some white country bumpkin.

I met a guy in the elevator.  He got on at the second floor with his bike, and I discovered that he, too, had just moved in.  He was very chatty and friendly, and said I should stop by his apartment and hang out with him and his roommate sometime.  He seemed nice.  I want to make friends with the people who live in my building!  It'll be like college again.  But without, you know.  Grades.

I'm tired.  If you read through this whole entry, I commend you and will bake you a cake.