The Value of Closets

Tonight, my mom had her piano and organ moved from Dad's house to her house. The moving crew had been working all day, and this was the next-to-last stop. It took almost two hours. Perhaps I should mention that when Mom bought the organ, the guys who brought it in suggested that she never, ever move. They had trouble getting it in. Getting it out was easier. At least, they didn't break the thermostat off the wall this time.

Mostly, Mom's (formerly Grandma's) house has easier access. Not as many tight turns, etc, but the turn to get into the little room where she wanted the organ was a wee bit too tight. It was looking like the organ wouldn't fit through the door at all. Then one of the movers realized there was a closet just inside the room, so that if they turned the organ over, they could use the closet for extra maneuvering room. Essentially, it gave the body of the organ someplace to go while they tried to get the top/keyboard part in. So they're both in place now. Mostly. Mom's going to try and move the piano slightly tomorrow. I don't see a good reason for it, but oh well.

One other note: To get the organ into the house, we had to take the door off by pulling the pins out of the hinges. I'd taken doors off by unscrewing the hinges but never by just pulling the pins out. The bottom pin didn't want to come out (it looked like maybe it had been pulled out a few too many times already). While they were moving stuff around, I very efficiently put it back on (once I worked out how to line up the hinges again), then when it looked like they were going to take it back out, I took it back off. Then, naturally, they worked out a way to get it into the room, so I got to put it back on again. I'm sure the movers would have put it back on, but putting the door on was more interesting than watching them maneuver the organ.

ADDENDUM: Shortly after I got back home, Mom called to let me know her house had been invaded at some point while we'd had the door wide open. The culprit? A very fuzzy gray cat who seems to belong to the people next door. No clue what his name is. She sort of guided him back up the stairs and out the door by saying "NO" when he went the wrong way. He's semi-friendly. That is, he acts like he wants to be petted. The first time we saw him, and accepted the invitation to pet him, he stiffened immediately, hissed, and took a swipe at us with his paws. He's gradually calmed down, and now will tolerate a few light strokes. I sort of wonder if he was abused and got adopted out to a better family. *shrugs*