It has been quite a while since I have been writing regular blog entries. The past 2 years or so have been such a horrific period for me that my concentration has been almost completely taken up with other things.
In November 2007, my father, who was then 96 years old, developed an infection in his toe. He had two operations in an attempt to improve the circulation to his foot. A few days after the second operation, complications developed, and he succumbed to kidney failure on April 11, 2008 at the age of 97.
During the period between November 2007 and April 2008, I visited my father in hospital almost every day that he was there. My mother has Alzheimer's, and my brother lives in Toronto, 400 miles away from me. Quebec politics has made sure that most of my relatives have moved away from Montreal, so I was the only person able to visit my father in hospital regularly.
My father passed away on Friday, April 11, 2008. On Monday, April 21, the owner of the apartment building that I was living in decided to start changing the building's heating system from Natural Gas to electric.
When the landlord saw the interior of my apartment, he decided that it was in a bad state of repair, and from then on he was trying to harass me into moving out. It even reached a point where he took me to the Rental Board in order to have me evicted. Details of all this are given in most of the blog entries written over the past year.
In the final hearing on February 19, 2009, a “compromise” resolution was reached whereas I had to leave the apartment when my lease expired on July 1 rather than me being immediately evicted in February.
It wasn't long before it was already the month of April and I was supposed to make preparations for moving. However, I did not seem to have the will power or the energy to do anything of the sort. So I started to procrastinate and make excuses. Soon, we were well into the month of May, and I still was not very eager to look for apartments or even pack things.
By the end of May, I finally started to look for apartments. It was quite a slow process. What would typically happen would be that I would phone a number and be greeted by an answering machine. I would then leave a message, but, usually, nobody ever phoned back in response to the message I left.
Finally, on Wednesday, June 3, I received a phone call in response to one of the messages I had left. I arranged to look at an apartment on Friday, June 5. It was a 3½ room apartment renting for $595.00 a month.
I went to look at the apartment on Friday, and it seemed suitable. However, it was then necessary to fill out an application so that a credit check could be made. Along with the application, it was necessary to leave a $100.00 deposit. I only had $80.00 on me.
I was willing to go home and bring more money, but the person who showed me the apartment, who turned out to be the owner of the building, had to go and pick up his son. He said he would be back at the building the following Tuesday at noon, and I could fill out the application then.
I was back at the apartment on Tuesday, June 9, at noon. The owner of the building handed me the application form to be filled out. He then left the apartment to do some other things in the building while I filled out the form.
After a while, the owner returned and looked over the form. He noticed that I had not filled out the phone number of the landlord of the building where I was still living, but he said that I could phone him back with the phone number and leave a message on his machine. He took the application form and my $100.00 deposit, and I then left.
I then went home and started to look for the old landlord's phone number. Surprisingly enough, it was not on any of the legal documents relating to the Rental Board case. I eventually found a telephone number online which was connected to the address I had for the landlord. I had previously seen some evidence that the landlord might have moved recently, but I hoped that phoning the old number might automatically get one directed to the new number. I suppose that it would have been better to try and get the landlord's phone number from the janitor of the building, but I didn't feel like bothering the janitor about it. So I phoned the owner and left the number that I had on his machine.
It was then Tuesday, June 9. I at that point assumed that I already had the apartment, so I did not look at any more apartments. My main emotion at that point was impatience, because the sooner the credit check was completed, the sooner I could start moving things into the apartment.
But Fate has a way of turning things around. On the morning of Wednesday, June 17, I received a phone call from the owner of the apartment building. My application for the apartment had been rejected. The owner could not reach my old landlord with the phone number I had given him. I had to come and pick up my $100.00 deposit. I was back at square zero, but this time, it was only two weeks before the day on which I was supposed to be moving out of the apartment I was then living in. The situation was becoming a lot trickier.
On Wednesday evening, I looked at another apartment. It was a 3½ , renting for $625.00 a month. The only problem with it was that it would not be available until Sunday, July 5, leaving me, my cat, and all my possessions with nowhere to go between July 1 and July 5.
An air of unreality was beginning to move into my life. Not only did I have nowhere to move to, but even if I found something, there would be no time to move any of my possessions from the old place to the new place.
By this point, it was only a few days before the Summer Solstice of June 21. Perhaps it would be better to wait until after the Solstice before doing anything else.
By Monday, June 22, I had decided that my best bet was to fill out an application for the 3½ room apartment that would become available on July 5. I handed in an application that evening, except that this time, I had contacted the janitor of the old building to make sure that I had the correct phone number for the landlord.
On the morning of Thursday, June 25, the telephone rang. It was from the company that owned the building that I had applied to move into. It seemed that the 3½ room apartment that I had looked at had already been promised to someone already living in the building. All that they had available now were 4 ½ s – three of them! I was told that the rent for each of them would be $725.00 a month. Would I be interested in renting one of them?
My first feeling about this situation was that I would not be able to afford the $725.00 in rent. When I told this to the woman from the company, she said that if I changed my mind, I should phone the janitor and arrange to look at the apartments.
I spent the rest of that day cursing everyone, especially myself. Had I not screwed it up with the first apartment, and taken more trouble to find my old landlord's address, I would probably be in the middle of moving stuff from the old apartment to the new one rather than still be looking for an apartment.
By the late afternoon, I began to feel more and more uneasy. I began to feel as if I would have been better off trying to get one of the 4½ room apartments. By the following day, I had changed my mind, and I contacted the janitor to see one of the apartments. The apartment that I saw was already unoccupied, so I would not have to wait in order to move in. I handed in an application by Friday evening, June 26.
On Tuesday morning, June 30, I received another phone call. The credit check had gone through, and I could sign the lease on the coming Friday, although the rent would be $750.00 rather than $725.00. I said that I had to be out of the old apartment by Wednesday, and that Friday was a bit late for signing the lease. They speeded up the process, and I was supposed to sign the lease that evening. But the Fates had one more trick up their sleeves. It turned out that the building had just switched janitors that day. So I kept dialing the wrong number until after 10 PM, when I was finally informed about the change. So I had to wait until Wednesday morning to sign the lease.
So it was Wednesday morning, July 1, 2009, when I finally signed the lease. After another delay, when I had to have a copy of the apartment key made (since the janitor possessed the only existing copy), I was ready to start moving.
There are a couple of things that I should mention at this point, or else this whole account won't make much sense.
Firstly, the new apartment is only a ten-minute walk from the old one.
Secondly, July 1 is the “official” moving day in the Province of Quebec. This means that it would be impossible to rent a truck for moving at the last minute. Most moving companies and rental trucks are booked for July 1 months in advance.
I went back to the old apartment and phoned some friends who offered to help me move. They had a hand truck which could be used to move small pieces of furniture. After the first trip to the new apartment, we found that there was an enormous shopping cart sitting in the hallway not far from the new apartment. So this shopping cart was also used in the move.
After a few trips had been made this way, the friends had to go to another event for a couple of hours. While I was waiting in the old apartment for them to return, the old landlord showed up. I had phoned him the previous night in order to find out how much time I had to vacate the apartment, and I had left a message on his machine. He said that he would allow me until Friday morning, July 3, to move out, and that if I stayed any longer than that, he would expect me to pay $600.00 for another month's rent. It was at that point Wednesday evening when I was talking to him.
The two friends returned and the move resumed. They told me that we should move enough things in order for me to be able to sleep in the new place on Wednesday night. The futon which I slept on was removed from the bed frame where it had been used and was rolled up for moving to the new apartment.
A few more trips took place that night. On the last of these, Tigger, the cat, was brought over in a pet carrier. The two friends took their leave, and I prepared to go to sleep for the night. I then realized that all the cat food and the food and water bowls were still in the old apartment. It was necessary for me to make one more trip that night. Tigger started to cry like crazy when he he saw me leaving the new apartment, but it could not be helped.
I went back to the old apartment and brought back Tigger's bowls and food. At least, he would have food to eat and water to drink that night. After feeding the cat and myself as well, I finally went to bed. I would have a long day on Thursday.
I woke up fairly early on Thursday morning. By 10 AM, I was on my way to the old apartment to bring more stuff back. I was now doing it by myself. I couldn't expect my friends to spend a second day helping me.
When I arrived back at the new building, I ran into the janitor there. Some tenants who had just moved out had left some furniture there, and he wanted to know if I wanted it. I of course accepted the offer. The next hour or so was spent helping the janitor move the furniture into my apartment. Then it was back to the moving.
After the second trip of the day had been made, I started using the shopping cart again to move things. It was awkward using it by myself to move things into the new building, but it made the ten-minute trip between the two apartments a lot easier.
Most of the next 20 hours or so was spent moving stuff from the old apartment to the new apartment. Stuff was placed in small plastic bags, and these bags were in turn placed into larger bags. These larger bags (garbage bags, actually) were then put into the shopping cart for transport to the new apartment. This went on almost continuously, day and night, until about 10 AM on Friday morning. I must have looked like the ultimate bag lady. I found the whole experience quite surrealistic.
At about 10 AM on Friday, July 3, I made my last trip back to the old apartment. By that point, I was already afraid that I would run into the old landlord when he came to take possession of the old apartment. I filled up the shopping cart one last time and hoped for the best.
By the time I got back to the new apartment building, I was surprised to see a couple of huge moving vans in front of it. Someone had just moved into the building from Quebec City, 150 miles away. I just sat down outside the building with the shopping cart, waiting for an opportunity to move my stuff in. I was no longer in such I hurry. I didn't have the courage to make any more trips to the old apartment. Besides, I was much too tired by then, not having slept for over 24 hours.
Eventually, I was able to bring my stuff up.
It was over. I had moved.
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nathanson1947's journal
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