Just say "help"

10:59 am
The apartment is disorderly and those things that don’t have a permanent home are lying all around the floor. Things like the cell phone charger, important papers, books, cleaning supplies, some random kitchen items, a bike helmet, a trash can, purses, leftover boxes, etc… A few cupboards haven’t been completely swept out, and the fridge/freezer needs a final wipe down.

11:00 am
Rebekah jumps in the shower.

11:04 am
Matthew yells through the door that the landlady is coming over at 11:45!
Rebekah yells “WHAT?!?!?” You see, I thought that I had until the end of the workday. Didn’t we pay rent for the entire month of June, including the entire last day? I had wrongly assumed that I could take my time, write a few emails, read more of my book, and maybe take a walk or go out for ice cream… but noooo. "How did this happen?" I think to myself as I try not to blame my husband for everything.

Little did I know that during my 4 minute shower, we received a phone call; my husband had momentarily panicked and said “yeah, sure” to the landlady’s suggested time. Even though he knew deep, deep down that there was no way we’d be ready in 40 minutes, he just became frightened (which is why I normally answer). Matthew often reminds me of a good friend (and former roommate—you know who you are) who also had the habit of hanging up anytime she got flustered or stressed out… It was hilarious.

But not to me, not this time when it came to our messy apartment. There we were--frantically picking up everything and throwing it in the car. I’m running up and down the stairs when suddenly I realize what Matt is doing: he’s cooking a pound of spaghetti in the frying pan (destined for the trash) because he didn’t want to waste it. I guess he didn’t hear me say that we could donate all of our remaining food to his grandparents the next day… Soooo, I finally convinced Matt he had to change the check out time. This was too much.

1:00 pm
Slowed down the packing, but still at it. Cleaning the fridge and freezer. Writing an email. Found more things to clean/dust. Taking out the trash.

1:45 pm
Rebekah’s on the phone to cancel our internet service. Immediately lost in a web of recordings.
TIP: just say “help” over and over and over again until a human is on the other line. If that doesn’t work, try saying “agent”. Twenty-two minutes later, the phone call is finally over.

2:30 pm
Scrambling to load the last of the items into the car or into the dumster!!!

2:45 pm
Three hours after the first suggested check out time (ahem-I told you so-ahem), our landlady finishes her inspection and we sign on the dotted line.

Adieu apartment!