Holy fuck. I came home today to a flat full of furniture. Granted, I told Fife that he could move in, and I even said we could get a sofa-bed for his kids, but otherwise I thought he’d keep everything at the house and just bring like a suitcase or something. Instead, he’s moved in everything!
In the lounge there is now a sofa-bad, wingbacked chair, coffee table, and a desk and chair. In the kitchen there’s a breakfast table and four stools, and in the bedroom is a chest of drawers, a wardrobe, a bookshelf, a frame for the bed and a side table. Oh, and he just put the side table in front of LadyBohemia’s painting without even noticing. Not cool.
Plus there’s an obnoxious number of boxes everywhere.
I rang Fife, who answered the phone with, ‘Surprise! You finally have a furnished flat.’
Okay, fair enough. It’s nice to not have to sit on the floor all the time, but, oh my gawd, this is a lot of stuff. Oh, and get this, he said he didn’t bring that much. Everything else is in the house or in Perthshire, but he’ll just leave it there until the house sells.
If this isn’t everything, how much stuff does he have?
I asked where all this came from, and he said it’s a combination of furniture from the house and from the cottage. When he got home this morning he asked Conspiracy to help him move stuff and they spent the day running around getting furniture and lugging it up to the flat. (Conspiracy has a van for his business, which I actually find kind of creepy. Not that he has a van for business, but that Conspiracy owns a van all togehter. I mean I’m supportive of him as a writer, but he’s kind of a weird person. I bet the van is zombie proofed.)
Then Fife added, ‘And the sofa is the one from the house. [Helen]’s going to be right fucked when she comes home to find there’s no sofa.’
I didn’t find this as amusing as he did because now his kids don’t have anywhere to sit when they’re home. Then again, they are kids so they should be happy with sitting on the floor.
And I don’t know how I feel about Conspiracy lugging furniture up to my flat all day (and a sofa bed is not light, so that must of been agonising). I know Fife and Conspiracy are friends, but he’s my client as well, and I really don’t want my clients up in my personal business. (I long since learned my lesson with the whole work/play/Goatee thing.)
Oh, and Fife said that he’ll finish unpacking the boxes tonight and tomorrow, that he had to rush home to sort out the kids after school. So, essentially he did all of this in six hours. And most of that had to be driving around getting stuff.
While I’m happy to finally have a furnished flat, I’m worried that I’ll end up regretting asking Fife to move in. When will I learn?