The Promised Photo

Remember when I wrote that long typo-filled blog about moving?

I mentioned how terrifying the movers' handling of our fragile stuff was. You see, we had them pack the most fragile of the fragile items to ensure no breakage. I had packed a lot of Pyrex and stoneware myself, since I'm Grandpa's granddaughter and I know how to wrap every Corelle mug in newspaper and jam the box full of plastic bags to make sure nothing can move. "Still," we said, "let the movers pack the china."

I am so glad I didn't see them pack, because when I unpacked, this is what I found:

I would like to emphasize that this is exactly what I saw when I opened the box. I didn't take anything out to give you a better view, or anything like that. Granted, this was the worst-packed box I opened (which is why it was selected to be photographed), but it is totally illustrative of their packing methods. And yet... notice the unsmashed light bulb. I am still amazed.

***

Seriously, though, there has to be something else going on.

Husbinator had seen the movers throwing boxes of books on top of boxes marked fragile, so he was exceedingly nervous about breakage and was on pins and needles about calling the foreman to tell him we wanted to be reimbursed for breakage.

Thus, when I picked up a box and heard what could only be the tinkling of a very lot of shattered glass, Husbinator begged me to call the movers right away to ask them what to do: take before and after photos? (This was before I had unpacked anything that the movers had packed.) So I called the foreman before opening the box, and told him that something had clearly broken.

"No," said Chaim, not sounding belligerent or accusatory, just as if he were unable to understand what I was saying. "It can't be."

"Umm..." I answered, "There's only one thing this sound can possibly be..."

"No," Chaim repeated, dazed. "It can't be."

"Listen," I answered, "I'll take a picture when I ope--"

"Oh!" laughed Chaim. "It isn't yours!"

"What?"

"I know what it is!" Chaim continued in relieved triumph. "You're right, you're right: there's that one box. But it isn't yours, it was supposed to stay on the truck, one of the guys brought it in by mistake... Listen, just open it! It's fine."

This was a bit much, but his tone of voice didn't sound like he was trying to weasel out of anything, and even if he were, what kind of stupid plan was this?

So I opened the box. It wasn't ours.