brunobaby

I ordered a new hardwood wardrobe cabinet a couple of weeks ago, and today it's sitting comfortably in a corner of the bedroom. Well, three-quarters of it is.

When I got up this morning, it looked for a minute as if none of it was going to be delivered, since the furniture truck would have to make it through the annual multi-block street fair ("Oh my God, it's today?".) We called the furniture place, and the guy said he couldn't reschedule unless the drivers called him to say they can't get through.

"Well, when would that be?"

"When they try to get there and can't."

"But what time? A number!"

"I don't know." But he did know we were the fifth delivery, so that gave us a little leeway. A quick recon of the neighborhood showed that the street around the corner was open, and a quick sniff of soy candles at one of the street fair booths showed that soy candles are going to be big at street fairs this Summer.

At one on the dot, just as we'd emptied tons of my worldly goods out of the old closet, a couple of Peruvian guys showed up with the new closet, which they'd wheeled through the crowd outside. But when they got it upstairs and peeled off the cardboard wrapper, we discovered that one of the doors had a big crack down the middle.

I called the furniture store guy, who apologized profusely. Fortunately, they didn't have to take the whole thing back; just the door. We'll have a new, uncracked door in about a week. And for a handsome remuneration, the delivery guys took the old closet out back.

So now I keep lying on the bed looking at the naked contents of my closet, micro-managed to the millimeter as all New Yorkers' closets are, and I keep seeing more stuff I can get rid of.