Homeless in Aarhus

Well, the floors in the living room, dinning room, kitchen and hallway (being one big continuous floor without interruption, should I just say "floor"?) are being refinished which means I cannot be home. We've taken up residence in CabInn, which isn't that bad. It's cheap, it's downtown so getting a shwarma and hitting the city library was no problem. But I have no control over the temperature. I'm freakin' freezing in here.

This morning we made our way to Brabrand/Gellerup to look at some apartments. Yes, we'll be moving to the last ghetto in Denmark. No, we aren't part of some gentrification project (me, gentrified? are you kidding?), husband thinks this will be a very good way to really get inside the immigrant experience, since he'd like to do a series of articles about it. I think he also has white-guilt. And he might get to practice the little arabic he knows. My arabic is limited to things you yell at tourists who walk into your excavation and things you yell at the teenage workers who would rather play with their phones and smoke cigarettes than move the dirt you just put in the wheelbarrow. I'm pretty sure I won't have to yell at someone to move their wheelbarrow or to go away because it is forbidden. But you never know. I just want to live somewhere cheap so that we can pull ourselves out of this financial meltdown.

We'd really like a two room apartment, because the three room is HUGE, 101 sq meters. Which, for normal people might not be that big, but we've just downsized and I don't have the stuff to fill it. Two rooms is also cheaper. But we cannot live in a one room - 40 sq meters. That's just madness. The apartments that small have no ovens, just two hot plates. And the laundry is located in freakin' Germany, instead of the basement where laundry belongs.

So the three room apartment we looked at today was... welll... not exactly squalid. They patched up the holes in the walls and painted it all nice and fresh. But the bathroom and kitchen date from when the building was first put up in the 70's. You step into a tiled volcano to get into the shower - which is an accident waiting to happen. The kitchen is pretty foul, but has an oven and space and hookups for a dishwasher. The management will let you take out a loan to replace the kitchen, though, so maybe we could do that. 'Cause, URG.

The perks would be the crazy low rent, the view isn't too bad (there is greenery), it was shockingly quiet and fairly tidy (a few notable exceptions, but mostly tidy), Bazar Vest, and the most interesting political commentary on the Palestinian government factions scrawled on the walls of the elevator. There seemed to be more Fatah supporters than Hamas.

So how do I feel about it? Pretty neutral. I would rather live in a prettier place, where the buildings aren't hideous concrete blocks. But it will be cheap, so cheap that we can start to pay off the debts and maybe even put some money aside like all the financial advisors advise. I won't be weirded out by the immigrants, that's for sure, I'm already surrounded by people I can't understand (and not just language-wise). But if we go with this three bedroom, I still can't have a cat. Sigh.

I'm going to have to finally figure out the bus system or learn to bike in traffic.

Grumble grumble

One of the horrible things that happens when you move is trying to change all of your mailing addresses. Some are pretty easy to change. The bank, for instance, and your credit card company are very quick to help you change your address. Magazines, not so much, especially if you've just paid for the next year's subscription it seems.

My Archaeology magazine is still being sent to the old address. I tried to change the address on-line but the on-line program couldn't find my subscription and suggested I send an email.

Email 1. Included my membership number as well as the only other number on my mailing sheet which I presumed was my account number.

Reply 1. They needed to know when I subscribed and how.

Email 2. I replied with the information.

Reply 2. They need my subscription account number which is printed on my mailing sheet.

Email 3. Okay, that's already been given in the first email, since all the emails are included in this quickly growing email chain, it is actually still there... but fine. I give the information again. This time I also scan and send my mailing sheet with the email.

Reply 3. Please call us with your subscription details at this not 1-800 number or fax your request to us or go on-line to change your subscription.

I am SO not happy about the customer service I've received. I now have to call America in order to change my stupid address. I wouldn't bother except I just paid for another years worth of magazines and I intend on getting them.

As fun as it is to get this magazine, I am not sure I wish to keep getting it. I hate poor customer service. The emails I've been exchanging with Archaeology all have the proviso *When contacting us please include all the previous emails.* Which I have. Therefore the people receiving these emails should take the time to read them all from the beginning. The first email reply was addressed to the name I had requested be used. The second reply did not. Nor did the woman notice that I'd already given the subscription number to customer service. The third reply was just beyond the pale.

For further assistance on your request, please call at 617-353-9361 Fax #: 617-353-6550 Or
mail you request to
Archaeological Institute Of America
656 Beacon St
Boston, MA 02215
OR visit us at www.archaeological.org

This is not an AIA problem, I've already changed my address with them. They were very nice about the whole thing. I was told by them that I needed to contact the magazine in order to change my address.

And how hard is it to say, "I'm sorry we still can't find your subscription. Would it be possible for you to call us at ###?" Instead I get the automatic response shove off. With the broken structure that appears in the email, I KNOW that was a cut and pasted reply.

Grumble grumble grumble.

Yesterday was a bad day

And so I'm not going to even talk about it.

Today has been better.

To try to get a handle on all the things that I need to do and break them down into manageable lumps so that SOMETHING can get done every day, I've broken the list into sections and then vow to do one thing from each section. The sections are:
1) do one thing involving paperwork (someday this will be the dissertation section).
2) unpack something
3) figure out dinner and shop if you must
4) move something

Obviously once the move is finished, I can scratch two sections off my list. I'll probably have to make a new list, but for the moment, this keeps me sane. I do not have to work on one thing all day, feeling like I'm falling behind on something else and I can feel at the end of the day like shit got done. And you know how important it is to feel like you've gotten shit done.

Also, because I'm a little OCD, I like to do these things in order.

So if you'll excuse me, I have to go shopping now.

Living in a state of chaos

The last few days have been, well, a bit odd.

There was the moving, which is still happening. I really ought to be unpacking, but I've run out of places to put things. I also ought to go to the other apartment and pack up more things, except where am I going to put THOSE things and I think I need more gas and I don't have enough cash to do that and buy food.

But what has really thrown everything for a loop is the construction that is going on. We had the windows on one side of the apartment replaced, which included the windows in my bedroom, my office, the living room and the dining room. Which left the bathroom as the only room in the house that was unaffected. The bathroom has no windows. I cannot go spend all day in there, we have roommates and presumably, they pee. So I've been a bit cold of late. Yesterday the carpenter put the insulation in, thank god, which means I can no longer hear the street so much and the drafts have finally lessened. Of course, the sun then immediately came out and it is now warmer outside than in here.

I've turned on the heat, but it feels as if the cold has permanently invaded my living space! Perhaps it is the sawdust. Sawdust seems to be everywhere, even in places that it shouldn't, like the refrigerator. I think the sawdust is releasing cold into the room.

Don't tell me that this is thermodynamically impossible.

So we've moved...

And boy are my arms tired.

So are my legs. Or perhaps I should say "sore are my legs" - ha, I love bad puns.

Seriously, my legs look like Dalmatians, if Dalmatians were tan with blue spots. I am covered in small, medium and very large bruises. I look like I've gone several rounds with a midget. I think the midget won.

I'd take a photo, but since the really spectacular bruises are near groin level, I think I'll pass. The best is a cross-shaped one just at the top inside of my thigh. I seem to have burst a rather large blood vessel up there and the color cannot really be described.

I'd love to say that we are settling in, but that would be a big fat lie. We've still got stuff to move and nowhere to put it. Storage is out, since we've already filled up the storage room we have and both rooms we've moved into are stuffed, and I mean STUFFED, with stuff.

The big problem is that we need to organize before we move in more things. Have you ever tried to move a couch in a small space filled with breakables? Yeah, I think the couch is staying where it is. I also need to run A LOT of cables around the perimeter of the room, which is now completely filled with bookshelves. The cables, of course, are still in the other apartment along with routers and plugs and lamps. This is because most of the clean up moving that we're doing now must be done at night, in the dark, because my husband is working during the day.

I, oh lucky me, get the task of unpacking. And moving furniture.

I just rearranged the furniture in the bedroom. Thankfully, since the floor was freshly finished, I can slide most of the stuff around without too much lifting. Ack! You say, that'll leave a mark! So far, not yet. The floor is SO lacquered both the furniture and myself are sliding all over the place. The so-called no-slip floor protector under my desk is anything but. Every time I step on it I suddenly find myself laying on the couch with my legs up in the air.

Yeah, that couch is staying there all right.