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Moving, Wellington Style

December 12th, 2011 by admin

It’s an awkward, sweaty moment. Willow is standing on one leg on the sidewalk. Inside her car, her spoiled cat Cilla is bewailing being confined in a cat carrier and whisked away. Her as-of-this-moment-former-flatmate Wazzer is receiving the house keys from her and getting final house handover instructions. Willow would like to say a sentimental goodbye, but she feels restrained by the curious eyes of Willow’s hired movers, strapping posessions down in their truck.

“Will and Winona and their movers should have been here by now…”

“Yeah, my mates with the van are late, too.” Wazzer shrugs.

The only thing worse than many Wellington abodes is the prospect of moving house within Wellington. Despite the friends’ grousing, this is not the fault of the moving companies, but of the phenomenon known as “Wellington access.” With Wellington access and iffy weather added to furniture wrangling, moving blows out time estimates, costs the earth, and breaks strong men. Moving companies start up and go out of business on a regular basis, as their staff blow out their ACL ligaments and knees on Wellington’s inclines. Willow had to email her moving company digital photos to assure them that her access was fine, truly it was. They are mildly shocked to be on time and are ready to convoy off to the ferry that will take Willow and her belongings to Oamaru.

“I…” Willow begins. She looks around at the pearly sky, at the loose roses roiling profusely over the neighbor’s fence. “It’s a hard day to leave Wellington.”

“Yes. Yes,” Wazzer agrees. “But it’s one of the Good Days, y’know. You’re gonna have a gorgeous summer down there. And Will and Win and I all have crash space for you if you come up to visit.”

“Absolutely I’ll come up to visit! And…you’ve been great, and…I hope you…um…you know.” She breaks out of her reserve to wrap Wazzer in a huge hug.

Inside the car, Cilla’s feline wails become more audible. It’s time to go. Wazzer waves her off, then stands on the early summer sidewalk, wondering. What was it that Willow had hoped for, for her? What does she hope for, for herself?

She tosses the keys up and catches them. Whatever it is, doing it in her own place is going to be pretty sweet.





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  • Wow. All we have to put up with is ice and freezingness. never move house in Minneapolis in February. No one will show up to help.