Thou shall not stress over moving houses

The husband has a new thing where he invites everyone to the house. We recently had the audacity to believe we could survive a move in Dhaka, and since we sort of didn't die (except on the inside), he has developed a sense of pride about it.

I find this ironic given that he went to work one morning from the old house and returned in the evening to the new one—with zero involvement in between—but for now, I am smiling through his new-found spirit of hospitality. So much so that when his colleagues from abroad casually tell me that they ALL use our address when clearing immigration in Dhaka, I smile and nod as if the possibility of getting arrested for illegal sub-letting doesn't bother me. At all.

International travel violations aside, my solo experience maneuvering a move has led me to an important conclusion: sitting at the back of a truck smashed between one's possessions surrounded by lungi-genji clad men may not be ideal, but it does have its benefits. Take for example my unreasonable yet not irregular cravings for red velvet cake. I now have no qualms asking said husband to make dessert runs at ungodly hours because remember honey when I shifted house all by myself? That's right, I would get walking too if I were you. 

More importantly, and this might have to do with my consistently replenished dessert belly, I find myself becoming something of a sage in all things related to house shifting. A one-stop solution for solicited and unsolicited advice for everyone and their grandmother. In fact, so deep is my insight on dealing with movers, shakers, electricians and carpenters i.e. my current speed dial, that I have taken the liberty to put down in words some commandments I swear they swear by.

Thou shall not be on time; not once, not ever

No matter what time your person of interest says he will arrive, it is fair to assume he will be delayed. I could comfort you and tell you that these delays are usually restricted to less than 60 minutes, but exit utopia, they aren't. In fact, they are usually so far beyond the T+60 range that you may find yourself climbing into your bathroom's false ceiling to install your own hot water geyser. To avoid disappointment, add 36-48 hours to your expected time of arrival and you should have a realistic guesstimate on your hands—except when they leave the city unannounced, in which case, bring out your toolbox.

Thou shall not be caught well-prepared; neither alive nor dead

Have you ever believed you could hire someone to uninstall your fans and they would arrive with the right screwdriver (or any screwdriver)? Or that someone responsible for measuring drapes would actually have tape in their pocket? Have you, because oh sweet ignorance, it will never happen. The guy for the drapes will not have the tape just as the guy for the paint will not have the brush. And the guy for the drilling may have the drill, but will he have the bolts? Hashtag kill me now.

Thou shall do more damage than repair; without an iota of care

In a phenomenon more curious than crop circles, it is with startling precision that a leak in your kitchen tap will emerge every time the furniture in your bedroom is varnished or a light in your hallway will shatter whenever the tiles in your bathroom are cleaned. For reasons entirely unknown, an elusive correlation exists between the repairing of one fixture and the ruining of another. Suffice to say, when you bring in the plumber, expect the carpenter to follow. 

Thou shall charge more than thou quoted; always, forever

Thankfully, and to great sadistic relief, elusive correlations end with repair/ruin ratios and the relationship between the quoted price for a service and the final bill is far more predictable. With mathematical certainty, I now safely budget Tk. 17,000 for every 700 that I was told I would spend and to save myself some misery (since I can't save myself some money), I don't want to know why. You shouldn't either. But if you must, I can save you some time (again, because I can't save you any money) and tell you that robust reasoning, including allegations that the work took longer than ever conceived and the equipment cost more than ever believable, will always be provided. 

Seems like a terribly unfair deal, orchestrating a move all by oneself, but should you ever find yourself in this situation—and I recommend that you do, given the leverage in the marriage—do not be surprised to be left with a sense of nostalgia about the squabbles with the servicemen and the tussles with the tailor. Squad goals, they say. 

Subhi Shama is a development practitioner with an interest in military intelligence.