Moving Day

“There are few hours in life more agreeable than the hour dedicated to the ceremony known as afternoon tea.”
From The Portrait of a Lady by Henry James

After three nights on temporary accommodations the day to move into my home for the next year was, almost, here. I had to move off campus into a hotel until I official moved into my house. After a brief breakfast I went with my recently made friends, Laura and Anni, to turn in our keys.
Somehow during my short stay in Rootes I had expanded my possessions without purchasing anything. Because of this growth I now needed three suitcases, two backpacks, and my purse. Thinking myself extremely clever I switched the heavy stuff from my carryon into the suitcase with four wheels and then I attached the two together. Great plan, except with two backpacks I still didn’t have enough hands.
Thankfully, as I stood outside my building waiting for Anni, Mo (the guy who helped me in the airport) happened to pass by. He looked at my pile of luggage and, even when I insisted I could move my possession on my own, hung around talking until I tried to transport my belongings; as I’m guessing he had already figured, I failed at my attempt to get everything together. Sweetly Mo took my two largest suitcases and dutifully followed me to the main reception building.

For logical reasons Anni stayed with our luggage while I turned in our keys and inquired about getting my house key. I approached the desk and handed the lady our keys. “Could you check to see if my key is here?” I asked her. Without looking at me, the woman pointed to a piece of paper on her desk, “You can’t pick up your key until 9:00.” I looked at my watch, it read 8:54. “I just wanted to see if it’s even here, because…” She cut me off, “they’re all here; you have to wait until 9:00.” A little shocked at the woman’s unwillingness to even hear me out, I went back and waited until 9:00 and get in line.
When I finally reached the desk again (and a different woman) I said, “I’d like to see if my key is here to pick up.” Taking my ID card the woman looked up my information, noted that I was living off-campus, and went to get my key. “Do you have a key to turn in?” she inquired. “No, I already turned in my key.” The woman looked slightly surprised, “why didn’t you get your key when you turned in the campus one?” Slightly annoyed I replied, “I was told I had to wait until 9:00.” “That’s not true because you are living off-campus.” After expressing my frustration and stifling the urge to stick my tongue out at the woman who had made me get in a long line instead of just giving me my key, I headed back to Anni so we could queue for a taxi.
Apparently Anni and I were meant to be friends because her house is only three blocks from mine. Due to our close proximity we decided to take a cab together and split the cost. After dropping Anni off, I headed to my new home. Strangely there was a guy painting the door between the living room and the stairwell so instead of dragging my stuff upstairs I left my luggage in the living room and slipped past the painter into my room.
Suddenly I heard a voice coming from downstairs. “There’s someone here! No one can be here!” I wandered to the landing and found myself staring into the intense gaze of a very annoyed English woman. “You can’t be here.” She told me abruptly. “Oh, they gave me a key. No one told me I couldn’t move in yet.” “What!” This extremely boring conversation went on for a bit, her talking too loud and me trying to convince her to let me keep my luggage in the living room overnight. I lost the conversation so I took one of my backpacks and my carry-on rolling bag, told the woman I’d be back for the rest soon, and headed down the street to Anni’s house.
As it is apt to do in the United Kingdom, rain began to fall. Finally I reached Anni’s door, slightly wet and very tired, and knocked.
The door opened and Anni appeared, looking exceedingly confused. “They kicked me out.” I’m pretty sure that my voice had a slight whine to its tone.
“Come in,” she said stepping back into the entryway. “Do you want a cup of tea?”
Ah, the British solution to every malady. But you know what? The world really does look better after a good cup of tea.