Friday, September 12, 2003
FOLLOW UP ON KUNSTLER. Check out James Hower Kunstler's Eyesore of the Month. See also related article from previous blog or CLICK HERE
Wee Little House and Big Furniture I was really curious how they expected to get the inharmonious grouping out on the brick pavement in through that tiny doorway, beyond which was a very narrow stairwell. And I could see up higher a hairpin curve that the super-sized Crate 'N" Barrel couch didn't have a chance of getting up. Nor did the king-sized bed, two king-size mattresses, an armoire, an executive desk, and a beautiful one-piece antique dining room table for twelve. A policeman directed pedestrians single-file around the obstacles, all of which looked (the furniture I mean) as if they were feeling rather self-conscious in this peculiar setting. Yeah right that furniture is going up those stairs I thought.
But then along came the way you get big furniture into 19th century row houses and so I put off my favorite sandwich place for a few minutes to see how this all worked. They call it a 'moving dock.' It's a compact crane that can reach up about four stories and has attached to it a large steel 'docking station' -- a room-sized steel sheet that is suspended from four burly chains. The links are as big as a giant man's hands. So what they basically do is pop out the windows of the house and then load up the dock with an assembled room e.g. the master bedroom consisting of bed, mattresses, reading lamps, armoires, etc. Along with the furniture are lifted two movers who carefully direct each piece to the waiting hands on the other side of the no-longer-there-window. When I asked one of the guys what such a moving job cost he told me $3000. Not bad really. You get the crane (includes attachable loading dock), movers, and your very own policeman who will direct foot traffic below. I don't think that quote included the popping-out-the-windows-part. Forget the grand piano though. No way one would go through a window, would it? Yet I'm sure a lot of these 19th century homes had pianos. Did they build the houses around them?
Speaking of moving, my daughter and I are about to try a week's worth of close-quarter bonding in a little bed and breakfast while the floor guys refinish our downstairs. Hubby is conveniently in Europe so we only need one small room with twin beds. We'll be as cozy as college roomies up in our little loft replete with its own little kitchenette. The inn keeper gave us an excellent price for the week and every penny will be well spent: Little Gary the floor guy comes in and moves all of your furniture, repairs and then sands your floors, puts down three coats of polyurethane, puts back all of your furniture, and then dusts!!
This week I am holding my carpenter and his wife hostage so that they will finish all of the projects I assigned them. They of course think they are staying at my house out of the kindness of my heart so that they won't have to commute two hours each way. In actuality I just want them in my CLUTCHES so they can't get away to the other waiting customers I know they have. Things are moving along even so I am running ragged being my handyman's errand bitch. Given that he earns more an hour than I do on my paltry government salary, it is much cheaper if I get all the supplies myself rather than pay him to do it....
Wee Little House and Big Furniture I was really curious how they expected to get the inharmonious grouping out on the brick pavement in through that tiny doorway, beyond which was a very narrow stairwell. And I could see up higher a hairpin curve that the super-sized Crate 'N" Barrel couch didn't have a chance of getting up. Nor did the king-sized bed, two king-size mattresses, an armoire, an executive desk, and a beautiful one-piece antique dining room table for twelve. A policeman directed pedestrians single-file around the obstacles, all of which looked (the furniture I mean) as if they were feeling rather self-conscious in this peculiar setting. Yeah right that furniture is going up those stairs I thought.
But then along came the way you get big furniture into 19th century row houses and so I put off my favorite sandwich place for a few minutes to see how this all worked. They call it a 'moving dock.' It's a compact crane that can reach up about four stories and has attached to it a large steel 'docking station' -- a room-sized steel sheet that is suspended from four burly chains. The links are as big as a giant man's hands. So what they basically do is pop out the windows of the house and then load up the dock with an assembled room e.g. the master bedroom consisting of bed, mattresses, reading lamps, armoires, etc. Along with the furniture are lifted two movers who carefully direct each piece to the waiting hands on the other side of the no-longer-there-window. When I asked one of the guys what such a moving job cost he told me $3000. Not bad really. You get the crane (includes attachable loading dock), movers, and your very own policeman who will direct foot traffic below. I don't think that quote included the popping-out-the-windows-part. Forget the grand piano though. No way one would go through a window, would it? Yet I'm sure a lot of these 19th century homes had pianos. Did they build the houses around them?
Speaking of moving, my daughter and I are about to try a week's worth of close-quarter bonding in a little bed and breakfast while the floor guys refinish our downstairs. Hubby is conveniently in Europe so we only need one small room with twin beds. We'll be as cozy as college roomies up in our little loft replete with its own little kitchenette. The inn keeper gave us an excellent price for the week and every penny will be well spent: Little Gary the floor guy comes in and moves all of your furniture, repairs and then sands your floors, puts down three coats of polyurethane, puts back all of your furniture, and then dusts!!
This week I am holding my carpenter and his wife hostage so that they will finish all of the projects I assigned them. They of course think they are staying at my house out of the kindness of my heart so that they won't have to commute two hours each way. In actuality I just want them in my CLUTCHES so they can't get away to the other waiting customers I know they have. Things are moving along even so I am running ragged being my handyman's errand bitch. Given that he earns more an hour than I do on my paltry government salary, it is much cheaper if I get all the supplies myself rather than pay him to do it....
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