Post by mrsphyllistorgo on Nov 24, 2013 13:35:07 GMT -5
WE HAVE DONE IT!
After seven years in our old apartment, things were going to hell. The carpet, which wasn't new when we moved in, was a threadbare wreck. The walls had constant mold that only straight bleach would eradicate (further wrecking the carpet.) The area under the kitchen sink was gross. The bathroom needed a complete teardown. The whole place was worn out, rode hard and put up wet, looking like ten miles of rough road. It was time to leave.
It was actually time to leave three years ago, but we couldn't find anything near to what we had in terms of size and work-going-to convenience. Plus, rents are skyrocketing in our part of town. So we'd look around, find nothing, get discouraged and resign ourselves to our moldy worn out hobbit hole.
But then! Our lovely building manager told us that a mirror image of our current one bedroom was opening up--but with new carpet, repaired everything in general and a view of the Space Needle, and would we be interested? To use the scientific term, HELLS YEAH.
Since it was in the same building, the move was leisurely. Up the stairs with an armload of stuff, back down, rinse, repeat. Shoulda been as relaxing as a move can possibly be--but.
As any of you who have ever removed to a new domicile know, something always occurs that not only is an annoyance in itself, but creates expotentially more difficulties in every other aspect of your plans. For us, it was the cats getting fleas.
Let me say up front that this was all our fault. We'd let the Frontline doses lapse for months, because our cats haaaaaaated it soooooooo much--it was an exhausting rodeo of closed doors, blocked avenues of escape, capture and sulking every time, and they never had fleas, and that stuff is mega expensive anyway, so...it was easy to just let it slide.
Wrong thing to let slide. The Pacific Northwest is Club Med for fleas due to our mild climate, and the current flea season is apparently the worst in the past twenty years. Our babies are indoor only cats, but fleas didn't become the pernicious little buggers they are today by not seizing opportunity. They sneaked their way in and onto our cats, and let the scratching and biting commence!
Anybody who has ever tried to eliminate fleas knows it is a protracted, expensive and heartbreaking enterprise. We dosed the protesting cats with Frontline. We fleabombed the apartment with chemicals so toxic I'm surprised I'm not typing this with my third arm. We boiled (metaphorically) every blanket and pillow in the apartment over at the laundromat with the giant washer/dryers. Nothing helped for more then a few days.
What to do? We couldn't take the babies upstairs in their current riddled condition or a new infestation would commence. We decided that we'd have to schedule a flea dip for them, carefully juggled with all the other crap that comes with a move--address redirects, scheduling the cable guy, and so on--so they'd go straight from the dip to the new place. But when we got to the vet's, turns out they don't do dips! It's understandable--they have a building full of cats and dogs and DO NOT WANT fleas introduced there--but what were we to do? Washing them ourselves would end only in blood and pain, and more blood. But there's no way they could come up to the new place in their current spotty state. Oh Lord, we needed a rescue!
Bam! Rescue accomplished! The friendly vet tech, Matt, who was sympathetically assisting us, suggested that he could come to our place and give the cats their much needed scrubdown.
"Really?" we said.
"Sure!" he said. "I do it for clients a lot, for their cats who have medical conditions or whatnot."
"Really?" we said. "Er, how much would this cost?" (This was a moot question, as we would have happily bought him a car if he could get us out of our current predicament.)
"Ohh, say, twenty bucks each?"
Oh, my Lord, thank you Jesus. The heavens opened and the angels sang. We ecstatically made the appointment and went home to inform the cats that: Good News, they did not have to go to the vet on Moving Day and Bad News: A strange man was coming to the house to soak them in water and rub shampoo into them.
Everything went smoothly (well, we had to go to another vet's office to pick up Capstar, a flea pill that our current vet doesn't carry, but that was s mere bagatelle considering everything). Matt came over, expertly pilled the beasts, wrapped them in towels, clipped their claws with a nail clipper, and got down to the scrubbing and rubbing. Poor Harvey was so horrified he was pretty much immobile the entire time, but Peanut struggled manfully. Luckily Matt has literal years of experience in "NOOOOOOOOOO!" and corralled them with love and care.
It was all over in half an hour. Our bedraggled but finally non itchy babies groomed their straggled selves with what dignity they could muster, we paid Matt and tipped him an extra ten bucks, and at long last the cats were introduced to their new home! Peanut ran about while Harvey sulked under the bed for three days, but both seem to be getting the hang of the new place.
So that's our moving story! Except for hanging the pictures and cleaning the old digs, we're settled in with our new carpet and view of the Space Needle and two itch free kitties! Huzzah!
Now, if only our new couch would get here....
After seven years in our old apartment, things were going to hell. The carpet, which wasn't new when we moved in, was a threadbare wreck. The walls had constant mold that only straight bleach would eradicate (further wrecking the carpet.) The area under the kitchen sink was gross. The bathroom needed a complete teardown. The whole place was worn out, rode hard and put up wet, looking like ten miles of rough road. It was time to leave.
It was actually time to leave three years ago, but we couldn't find anything near to what we had in terms of size and work-going-to convenience. Plus, rents are skyrocketing in our part of town. So we'd look around, find nothing, get discouraged and resign ourselves to our moldy worn out hobbit hole.
But then! Our lovely building manager told us that a mirror image of our current one bedroom was opening up--but with new carpet, repaired everything in general and a view of the Space Needle, and would we be interested? To use the scientific term, HELLS YEAH.
Since it was in the same building, the move was leisurely. Up the stairs with an armload of stuff, back down, rinse, repeat. Shoulda been as relaxing as a move can possibly be--but.
As any of you who have ever removed to a new domicile know, something always occurs that not only is an annoyance in itself, but creates expotentially more difficulties in every other aspect of your plans. For us, it was the cats getting fleas.
Let me say up front that this was all our fault. We'd let the Frontline doses lapse for months, because our cats haaaaaaated it soooooooo much--it was an exhausting rodeo of closed doors, blocked avenues of escape, capture and sulking every time, and they never had fleas, and that stuff is mega expensive anyway, so...it was easy to just let it slide.
Wrong thing to let slide. The Pacific Northwest is Club Med for fleas due to our mild climate, and the current flea season is apparently the worst in the past twenty years. Our babies are indoor only cats, but fleas didn't become the pernicious little buggers they are today by not seizing opportunity. They sneaked their way in and onto our cats, and let the scratching and biting commence!
Anybody who has ever tried to eliminate fleas knows it is a protracted, expensive and heartbreaking enterprise. We dosed the protesting cats with Frontline. We fleabombed the apartment with chemicals so toxic I'm surprised I'm not typing this with my third arm. We boiled (metaphorically) every blanket and pillow in the apartment over at the laundromat with the giant washer/dryers. Nothing helped for more then a few days.
What to do? We couldn't take the babies upstairs in their current riddled condition or a new infestation would commence. We decided that we'd have to schedule a flea dip for them, carefully juggled with all the other crap that comes with a move--address redirects, scheduling the cable guy, and so on--so they'd go straight from the dip to the new place. But when we got to the vet's, turns out they don't do dips! It's understandable--they have a building full of cats and dogs and DO NOT WANT fleas introduced there--but what were we to do? Washing them ourselves would end only in blood and pain, and more blood. But there's no way they could come up to the new place in their current spotty state. Oh Lord, we needed a rescue!
Bam! Rescue accomplished! The friendly vet tech, Matt, who was sympathetically assisting us, suggested that he could come to our place and give the cats their much needed scrubdown.
"Really?" we said.
"Sure!" he said. "I do it for clients a lot, for their cats who have medical conditions or whatnot."
"Really?" we said. "Er, how much would this cost?" (This was a moot question, as we would have happily bought him a car if he could get us out of our current predicament.)
"Ohh, say, twenty bucks each?"
Oh, my Lord, thank you Jesus. The heavens opened and the angels sang. We ecstatically made the appointment and went home to inform the cats that: Good News, they did not have to go to the vet on Moving Day and Bad News: A strange man was coming to the house to soak them in water and rub shampoo into them.
Everything went smoothly (well, we had to go to another vet's office to pick up Capstar, a flea pill that our current vet doesn't carry, but that was s mere bagatelle considering everything). Matt came over, expertly pilled the beasts, wrapped them in towels, clipped their claws with a nail clipper, and got down to the scrubbing and rubbing. Poor Harvey was so horrified he was pretty much immobile the entire time, but Peanut struggled manfully. Luckily Matt has literal years of experience in "NOOOOOOOOOO!" and corralled them with love and care.
It was all over in half an hour. Our bedraggled but finally non itchy babies groomed their straggled selves with what dignity they could muster, we paid Matt and tipped him an extra ten bucks, and at long last the cats were introduced to their new home! Peanut ran about while Harvey sulked under the bed for three days, but both seem to be getting the hang of the new place.
So that's our moving story! Except for hanging the pictures and cleaning the old digs, we're settled in with our new carpet and view of the Space Needle and two itch free kitties! Huzzah!
Now, if only our new couch would get here....