My rather unfortunate armoire (part 1)

One day, shortly before moving into our apartment in the Villa Parisienne in September 2009, I decide we need an armoire. The apartment has no closets, I grouse, how about driving up to the Braderie de Lille after we move in? The Braderie de Lille, held the first weekend of September, is reputed to be the largest citywide flea market in Europe; surely I can find an armoire there. But then I broke my foot and the thought of walking for hours on crutches to find the perfect armoire is not very appealing.

So by a warm, end-of-August Sunday we drive to the Puces de Vanves, a flea market I far prefer to the Puces de Clignancourt. Its rather friendly size is certainly easier to do with crutches. But after hobbling the length of its two streets and not finding the armoire of my dreams I am ready to head back to the car. We pass a dealer who is taking things out of a van parked on the corner.

Then I see it. It is reasonably sized, it is quite battered and it calls out to me. It is MY armoire.

I casually sidle up as best as I can on my crutches; no need to seem anxious, it can drive up the price. The armoire is stained dark brown. The doors are decorated with carvings of ships.

Deep scratches run down the front of the right door.

 I imagine the armoire belonging to a sailor, the scratches from his parrot as he clambers to perch on top of it. On the back of the armoire a faded card is thumbtacked: “Mle Cailleux, 44 rue de Belleville, Paris 20e.”

The dealer sees me examining it and mentions that the scratches can be easily covered with “brou de noix” (walnut stain). No, I say to myself, the scratches, the stains, the imperfections, these are what make it unique. This armoire has a history…little do I know what kind.

“Combien?”

“Cent cinquante euros.”

I look it over one more time and offer a hundred. He counters with one twenty-five but only if I pay cash. The armoire doesn’t fit in the car but he offers to hold it for a couple of days, until we pick up the van we’re going to rent to move our things to the apartment.

So for three years, in the Villa Parisienne, the armoire holds our clothes. When we move to La Luna, the armoire first holds sheets and towels. We now have the luxury of real, albeit small, closets for our clothes. I buy other armoires for our linens and decide to fit this one out for accessories and sweaters. I wonder if I should refinish it, I wonder if I should paint it, I wonder if I should put new fittings in the interior. After all, the bar for hanging the clothes is rather oddly placed and not very practical…

(to be continued)

Finally moved in!

Hard to believe I haven't posted since August 25th! But we have been very, very busy...

On Thursday night August 27th August Jacky rented a van and picked up the armoire we puchased at the Puces de Vanves. He then picked up Colman and I and we drove to pick up the fridge I had found on Craigslist Paris for 100 €. I was glad that Colman was there to help us load it into the van.

On Friday morning August 28th we went to our storage space in Paris and loaded the rest of the stuff into the van. Of course it took much longer than expected since I'm still on crutches and Jacky had to do it by himself. Finally on our way, we had an appointment with the real estate agent at 11:00 am to pick up the keys and for the entry inventory. At 11:00 am we were still a good hour away and we called to say we would be late but she had other appointments and could not meet us until 1:45 pm. We had time for lunch and at 1:30 sharp we were parked in front on the building waiting for her. She arrived on time and while Jacques began unloading items she walked me through the inventory and explained to me that the electricity would be redone to norm, the broken shutters would be repaired and a new shower stall would be installed.

Meanwhile, I was suspiciously eyeing all of the boxes marked "DVD" that Jacky was bringing in...

All of the small stuff having been brought up, the fun began. The armoire, while large and bulky, was not particularly heavy and Jacky and I managed to bring it up the steps, me sitting and holding in place, him pushing up. But the fridge was another story. No matter what, a regular size fridge needs two strong and healthy persons to bring it up some narrow winding stairs, even up only one story. So after much trying, groaning and effort (and seriously denting the front of the fridge), we had to leave it in the entry hallway with a small sign saying we would remove it the day after (when Colman agreed to come and give us a hand). It was getting very close to the time we absolutely had to leave to return the van on time.

We drove back to Paris at breakneck still-keeping-to-the-limit speed (not easy with a tall van on a windy day) and had to call the van rental agency because we did not think we would make it in time. We arrived a couple of minutes before they closed, returned the van and made our way back home by metro and bus, with crutches and dogs.

Saturday morning Jacky got me up early and not-so bright and drove me to Colman's house where I would accompany him to Mers-les-Bains while Jacky drove to Dieppe to pick up a truck and the rest of the stuff from the second storage space. The plan to rendez-vous at Beauvais having been  dropped since Jacky was afraid Colman would not find us. Arriving at Colman's house at about 6:00 am, Colman let me in, went back to bed and I crashed on his couch. We both got a couple of hours more sleep and left around 9:30 am for the drive to Mers.

Meanwhile, Jacky had picked up the truck and was loading it with the aid of the persons at the other storage space...more to come on this one.

We managed to both arrive in front of the apartment at about exactly the same time and after a quick tour decided that we would have lunch first and then begin to unload. We went to Mon P'tit Bar where Colman ordered steak and Jacky and I sole, as usual. Afterwards, when we returned to the apartment the fun began. The refrigerator went up the steps without excessive struggling now that there were had two strong men to do it.

Then Jacky and Colman attempted to turn on the water and kept making trips to the basement and turning valves but nothing was happening. It was getting critical as we had no water for the toilet. Finally we had to ask the real estate agent to come by and show us...it was all too simple: they had been turning on the gas instead of the water! Ouuf!

As the boxes were unloaded from the truck, I began to notice that they were in pitiful shape, dilapidated, torn, crushed, mildewed, dusty, dirty and even...nibbled at by some rodent! I began to fear the worst...

(to be continued)