We're in the process of migrating all of our belongings to a new apartment, hence the lack of any recent updates here. We were lucky enough to get access to the new place a full two weeks prior to the official move in date, which by one man's logic makes for a low-impact move, but by another's really just prolongs the agony of something that ought to be handled in the classic hammer-and-sack style. All told, the move went well and we're completely floored by the new pad, which affords us so much space for an urban setting that we're almost embarrassed to have people over. Not that I don't think we'll have trouble filling it -- We're staunch physics enthusiasts, and appreciate the principle stating that like liquids, we shall spread out so as to take the shape of our container.
On the downside, the full exodus from our old apartment is still experiencing one very major snag. My wife's full sized couch, which one year ago our movers spent a frustrating hour inching and maneuvering in through a tight doorway, absolutely refused to exit via its original means of ingress. The movers worked for nearly two hours, trying different angles, removing the feet, removing the doors in the hallway, and otherwise doing everything shy of smashing through the masonry with a pickaxe, but to no avail. When you're paying someone by the hour, and can plainly see that they really are trying to solve your problem but not having any success, you reach a stage of critical decision making where you either have to accept that you're going to double your moving expenses because of one uncooperative piece of furniture, or resolve the issue with a torch, sledgehammer, or some other spectacular means of destruction.
Or, you can take inspiration from Werner Herzog's classic film, Fitzcarraldo, and attempt the absurd. In the movie, the title character (played by Klaus Kinski in what is regarded as his signature role) chases a mad ambition to construct an opera house in the middle of the jungle and ends up pushing a huge boat over a mountain. Some people like to see deep metaphor in this singularly insane act, but I prefer the theory stating that the movie isn't really making any grand comment on the triumph of willpower or the burning passion of one man's desire, but is in fact just a three hour story about a guy who pushes a huge boat over a mountain. (They really did it during the shooting of the film, so in one way Fitzcarraldo is really just Herzog's documentary about himself).
The old apartment is on the corner of the block. Since we lived on the ground floor, we could easily get the stubborn couch out into the back yard, which is inconveniently enclosed on all sides by a towering cement wall. The western wall divides our yard from the sidewalk (and freedom), so it is currently under review as to whether there is any sanity to be associated with the notion of pushing a 200 pound hide-a-bed sofa over an eighteen foot wall.
I think we can do it. Hell, with enough people involved, even idiots can achieve great things. As the main proponent of this project, I may prove myself to be the biggest idiot of them all, but if we pull it off, I like to think we will have localized a little bit of Herzog's vision for the new century.
And yes, we're going to film it.
Popol Vuh - Im Garten der Gemeinschaft (from the Fitzcarraldo soundtrack) [Real Audio]
Update: I have been talked out of trying to push the couch over the wall by my more sensible better half. We donated it to the new tenants instead.