Mühsamstrasse Lives up to its Name

I completed the move to Mühsamstrasse on Saturday, and mühsam it was. After Wednesday and Thursday afternoons at Ikea (30 minutes by subway plus an 8-block walk) Friday was my day for assembling things, at least my sofa-bed so I could sleep here starting Friday night and avoid yet one more first-thing-in-the-morning encounter with the stairs at Hannah’s just to let the dog out. Such are my priorities.

As I did not want to spend any more days shopping than absolutely necessary, I got as much as I could at Ikea on Thursday – sofa bed, under-bed storage box, mattress, couch cover, pillow, sheets, armchair, footstool, wardrobe, pots, silverware, knives, cutting boards, mixing bowls, coffee press, dish rack, 2 cabinets and some storage bins for Hannah. And yes, it’s STILL cheaper than renting a furnished flat, and everything is new and clean. No questions asked. But it was bulky, heavy stuff and I had to go through the store twice.

Because I also took a large bookcase off Hannah’s hands and purchased a table at a thrift store, I needed a different kind of delivery service than Ikea offers, which is priced according to how much you spend. I thought about renting a van, and even recruited some of the young men in my German class to help, until one of them mentioned having seen “Möbil Taxi” trucks around the city. These are freelancers with trucks parked out front of various stores, who deliver furniture for a flat fee, based on where you live, and will make as many stops as you need; you just pay per stop.

After I found a guy who spoke English I hired one of these outfits in the Ikea parking lot, and made my first pass through the store. (Got the stink-eye from the cashier for not having my barcodes all neatly lined up.) I stashed my stuff with the truckers until I came out with the second batch (got the stink-eye from the guy ahead of me in line, whom I ran into with my wardrobe box because I couldn’t see the front of my cart) and then hopped in the truck and took off with two strange men. Imagine my mother doing this! The driver could speak English and he informed me that he was in Berlin because he was in trouble with one of the four construction companies he works for in Poland. I didn’t ask for details.

Friday after school I loaded up my suitcases and miscellany from Hannah’s (except for the dog and her bed), called a taxi (avoiding 6 round trips by myself on the tram), and arrived to begin my assembling. Started with the thrift-store table to get it out of the way and so I’d have a work surface. Easy as pie. Started next on the Ikea footstool. One hole wasn’t drilled deep enough to accept the final piece of hardware. Maybe the building super will have a drill. I’m NOT going back to Ikea. Put that aside and moved on to the critical piece, the sofa-bed. Missing four bolts. Another night spent at Hannah’s, another missed tram and walk back to Boxhagenerstrasse, another morning greeting the %#$% stairs with the dog at 6:30. Good thing I didn’t move the dog bed.

Saturday I returned – this time with the dog and all her belongings, by tram – and started putting together the wardrobe until I could muster the energy to head to the hardware store for the bolts for the bed (1 tram, 1 subway and a four-block walk). Died and went to Ikea hell for a while trying to figure out the directions, but the solution came to me, as so many do, as I lay on the floor in a puddle of tears.

To finish the job I needed a hammer and a bigger screwdriver than the little interchangeable one I brought with me, which was beginning to inflict stigmata on my palms. I went to the apartment I thought was the building super’s, only to find quite a lovely young woman tenant instead, who willingly lent me some tools and came back with me to see if she could figure out why the refrigerator doesn’t work. No clue. But she did know that the building “super” keeps an office around the corner, and does not work on weekends, although the estate agent told me he lived here. He’s not even a super, more of a for-hire handyman who keeps the grounds clean. A few days without refrigeration. I can live on bread, peanut butter and bananas until Monday.

Then I negotiated the huge Home-Depot-type hardware store, got my bolts and a lamp for the kitchen so I could cook dinner. (People take their light fixtures with them when they move; and their medicine chests, toilet paper holders, and towel rods. I’m not kidding. They strip the places clean.) Got another stink-eye from a grumpy cashier for being slow on the uptake when she asked me if I needed a bag for my items (you have to buy bags here), and realized I hadn’t eaten lunch. It was 5:00.

There’s a nice little grocery store just a half block from my place so I stopped on the way home for some provisions; Hannah came for dinner and to finish the furniture for me, as my back had given out. So now I’m done. Except that I forgot to buy salt and the store is closed on Sunday. Oh well, I don’t need salt for peanut butter and bananas, anyway.