oh, the places you'll go.

One of the more pressing jobs on my to-do list is finding movers. We're springing for the cost of movers because we're both so sick of relocating that we can hardly stand to discuss the actual details of the job. And since I'm supposedly the world's worst packer (what's wrong with packing books in a box meant for dishes?), we're going all out and hiring packers, too. This gives us the additional luxury of living this relatively calm lifestyle until the last minute, without having to add to the box-farm that we're already cultivating in the living room.

Is there something seedy about movers? A few burly men show up at your house, early in the morning, remove all of your possessions, pack them into a big truck, and drive away. You stay behind and sweep up, pack up your unmentionables and your aerosol cans, jam them into your tiny trunk, and hope against hope that when you arrive at your destination, those same burly men will be there with your same burly pile of worldly goods. My last roommate lost a desk chair in a move. How do you lose a whole desk chair? Yes, there is something decidedly seedy about the entire process.

So I called three moving companies just now. One is in Brooklyn, and guarantees their estimate. This is an option I was specifically seeking, since my last moving bill came to about 1.8 times the estimated cost. (My movers also appeared lacking the knowledge that they had also been hired to pack -- but that's an even sadder story.) They'll call me back tommorrow to arrange a time to come for the estimate.

The second was recommended by some of Marc's co-workers, and sports nothing but a Westchester area code and voicemail. I may never hear from them again. We'll see.

The third I found in the phone book. The intriguing, androgenously-named "Helen and Sons" specializes in domestic-abuse moves and offers discounts to senior citizens and veterans. I was told, hastily and via speakerphone, that a pack and move for a one-bedroom apartment, Bronx to Connecticut, will run me $580 (about one-fifth the cost I expected). Period. "No visit required?" asked I... "Nope, $580," replied Helen, or his son.

I don't know what I'll do. I guess I'll wait to hear from the other two, or at least the first one, and see if their estimates are even in the same ballpark.