Sunday – But I asked for a late checkout till 1pm so I could be at the house and the last big push was on to get the girls rooms done. Finley and Francesca were still at The Breakers (ordering up room service no doubt) with Martini (yes that is her name) , one of the hotel’s Nannies. Moving is upsetting to everyone and Chiara wanted them to come to their new house and be able to see their rooms all set up. I think I was still working on the kitchen trying to figure out what dishes to put in what cabinet. I have this organization thing about kitchens and I’m trying to lay it out the way I probably learned in Home Economics class lol.
This IS a Martha Stewart closet!
Tom was setting up his office and playing music way too loud! So loud that we had to scream his name to turn it down a couple of times because we couldn’t communicate at all on the second floor. At this point I decided to re-do the linen closet. This is where OCD comes into play and usually someone benefits. On Saturday Tom hired his assistant from work and her daughter to help us unpack boxes and put stuff away. At one point in the afternoon I saw both the mother and daughter sitting on the floor folding sheets and towels and putting them in the linen closet. I looked at the closet on Sunday morning and knew that I wouldn’t be able to sleep IF I didn’t re-fold the towels and sheets and blankets. Luckily for me (and for her), Chiara agreed that the closet didn’t look good. Tom came by and saw me pulling stuff out and refolding and remarked that the daughter had done the closet and then the mother said it was wrong and they re-did it. NOW I was doing it again-so many man hours, it’s a good thing this isn’t a Union job! Martha, on the other hand would be perfectly pleased as the closet was now a work of art if I do say so myself!
And speaking of communication…Tom took me back to my hotel to get the cat and check out. On the way he wondered out loud if Chiara had packed the champagne they had gotten as a gift at the Policeman’s Ball. I texted her and the instant reply was “Shit no you better call The Breakers right away”. Not having both feet firmly planted in the 21st Century nor having the money to spend on one, I don’t have an iPhone but at least I had my Droid and internet access. So I look up The Breakers on Google or rather I try to look it up. Have you ever tried to see your screen in the bright Florida sunshine? I swear I scrolled all over what came up on mobile and THERE WAS NO CONTACT US link to be found. OK so I called the reservation desk and spoke to someone who after I explained the situation, said she would connect me to the front desk. FIVE full minutes later I hung up the phone and spent another five squinting and twisting myself every which way in the seat to find a spot where I actually could see the screen. I called another number also connected to a site proclaiming, of course, reservations. After I went through my spiel that the Clarks had checked out but had forgotten a very expensive bottle of champagne in the room, I was informed I would need to call the actual hotel they were just for reservations and were off-site. Geez!
On the phone again to the original reservation clerk, I tell her that she left me on hold so I hung up. She explained she was trying to get someone at the front desk. Rachel (her name) said the room had been cleaned and no one reported finding anything. I told her someone had to have seen the bottle there. She then mentions things left behind like a bottle could be considered trash by the cleaning staff. I’m hot, tired and sitting in a car in the sunshine while my son-in-law buys some lunch so I very loudly say to Rachel, “NO ONE would see this bottle and throw it out! If they don’t have it someone does”. Ok, ok, she is going to get a hold of the front desk. Tom returns and since this is his thing, I give him my phone, put on speaker and tell him what she has said so far. Apparently, the Clarks did not actually check out but since check out is 12 noon and the hotel has the card number, they WERE checked out. And we are being told that there was an open bottle of champagne but that was trashed”. Well, this one was not opened and it cost $1000! Visibly or rather audibly Rachel is struggling to make some sense of something that is not her problem because she is just a reservation clerk but trying hard to help. She comes back on the line and says, “Good News, they have the bottle and they are holding it at the security desk for you”. Ah great all is well……..
Fast forward to about 4pm and I tell Tom he better go get the girls because it will be dark soon and they have yet to see their new house and they have to eat and bathe because Finley starts school tomorrow at 8am! Off he goes BUT he stops at Lowes first and I have no idea where it was or how far it was BUT both Clarks use their GPS to find their way to the Post Office, Starbucks or Sears Roebuck! THEN he went to the hotel and called me to say that now he was being told that they did not have the bottle. Ridiculous! Fortunately I remembered who we had spoken to-Rachel who of course by now was nowhere to be found. It is 6:45pm and the girls are still at the hotel as is Tom but not the champagne. “COME HOME”! he is loudly directed by his wife. For God’s sake those kids have to eat.
EAT? There’s no food in the house, Chiara didn’t go to the grocery store because she wanted to be home when the girls arrived and take their pictures. Delivery Dudes again! Needless to say it was pitch black when they arrived, best laid plans blah blah blah,
Did I mention that we have been cleaning the house every day since Saturday? Well the very expensive Dyson vacuum cleaner wasn’t working (didn’t she know that before she had it packed?), the Swifter box was rapidly depleting as I discarded one black cloth after another and then one black wet Swifter pad after another. Tom returned not with the champagne but with a new Dyson but by that time we were too exhausted to open the box! We were all Blackfoot Indians and everyone knew they had to wash their feet before getting into bed or collapsing on the bed, whichever came first!
Sweet dreams Finley, BIG day tomorrow at your new school. What kind of nursery school starts at 8am and ends at 2:20pm? The private kind, the uniform kind.
Bill Ding and his band of clowns are the security patrol for this blog site. He is a favorite toy from the 50*s. By the way sometimes a blog is just an ego-maniacal stream of conscience.
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