Übermässigputzen

In Switzerland, when you vacate an apartment, it is your responsibility to make the apartment perfectly, completely clean, inside and out.  Not only does everything (including walls and floors, appliances, exterior blinds) have to be wiped down and spotlessly shining, but also all of the hidden messes must be cleaned. Showerheads need to be dismantled and decalcified. Air filters need to be rinsed. The drain pipes of the sinks need to be scrubbed out and gunk-free.

And if things aren't up to Swiss standards, you're fined some portion of the two-or-so months worth of  rent that you've paid in deposit.  So, since standards are so incredibly high, there's a hot business in removal companies, the people who you need to pay to come in and essentially detail your entire appartment. We were told about this when we moved to Switzerland, and told, too, that we should expect to pay more than a thousand francs for this service: it's just part of the cost of apartment living...and a very expensive incentive not to move too much!

So, anyway, we scheduled our cleaners to come today and tomorrow. Today, we were told, they would only be working on the exterior of the apartment, washing windows and wiping down our privacy blinds, and tomorrow they would tackle the inside. So we were told.

But then, this morning, the cleaners rang our doorbell at 7:20, ready to get to work.  There was a change of plans and they didn't bother to tell Dennis and me, leaving us completely at loose ends.  While we were trying to get the kids dressed and ready for school, we also need to clear out the bathrooms and kitchen, so that cleaners could get to work.

Gasp!

So all of our day's plans were ruined. The food I'd saved to feed the kids for lunch today had to go in the trash, since fridge was being defrosted and the oven was scrubbed clean.  Dennis was several hours late for work, handling paperwork and negotiating extra, unanticipated fees.  The woman in charge of the cleaning operation  decided to charge us an additional thousand francs for hauling away our excess furniture, all those silly things we weren't able to give away.  It's a staggering price, but Dennis and I are really without time, and therefore, without options.  But I'm left wondering if I would have ended up saving money, had we enjoyed a more expensive couch this year.

Dennis talked with our relocation agent, Denise, who sends this company a lot of business and therefore has some clout, and she didn't think the price was at all acceptable: she's given us some hope that she'll be able to negotiate a price reduction.

Denise was also upset that the cleaners wanted to charge us 2500 francs for a full repainting, which they claimed would absolutely be necessary.  No way, she told us: don't you dare let them repaint. She believed the marks on the walls (mostly from taping up kid-art) should fall under normal wear and tear, and if they don't, the fine won't even come close to that amount, and our insurance should cover it.  When I told the cleaners on-site (their manager had left) that we wouldn't be painting, they nodded, approving. "Gut. Das is besser für sie." Good. That's better for you.

Clearly, the manager from the cleaning company is trying to take advantage of us and our situation and our ignorance, which alone put me in a really sour mood.  Couple that with spending a day in an apartment foggy with cleaning fumes, dealing with clutter and anxious kids, and it all makes for a really rotten day.

But Dennis and I did our best.  After Dennis finally got to go to work, I focused on packing up our own boxes and bags, and trying, all the while, to keep the kids high-spirited.  The boys cozied up with games, and when Ella came home I helped her make a little nest in the corner of her room. She's got a bit of a head cold, poor thing, and just wanted to curl up.

A make-shift desk for Ella

Unfortunately, after she'd gotten all cozy, she let out a shriek of frustration: she'd forgotten to bring home her backpack, with her homework.  So she trudged all the way back to school. But her classroom was locked, so she eventually found her way to the teacher's lounge and found someone to open the door for her. 

But a minute or so after she got home, there was a second shriek: Ella had forgotten to check her folder, and her homework wasn't inside.  She wept with frustration, but I asked her what she thought she should do, I saw her visibly steel herself. "I'll die of embarrassment when I go back to the teacher's lounge, but I have to go back," she decided, so I handed her a granola bar for the road.

When she finally got back the second time, she read through her homework book and realized that the only chore she had was a little coloring on a worksheet, something that took all of two minutes.  At that point she burst into giggles. "Mom, I feel a little silly."

Last night, friends started dropping by, picking up loads of our things to take home, amusing me by the improbably large bundles that they would be loading onto the buses and trams.  And today they kept coming throughout the day.  And who knows how many thousands they saved us!

Dennis, and some of our baggage

As I write (and it's now 11:00 PM), Dennis is still at the apartment, helping the last few people retrieve things. But the kids and I are at a hotel, the very same one we stayed in a year ago, when we first moved here.  Before dinner, we loaded the kids and ourselves with suitcases and took two buses to get here.  It was a cumbersome trip, but Dennis tried to make it fun for the boys, flipping them upside-down and tickling them at the bus stop.  Ella looked on, not quite approving.  "Be careful, Dad," she warned. "Chances are, if you break them, you won't be able to make new ones.  It would be pretty hard to duplicate their genetic material exactly." That's a direct quote.

We did manage to deliver the boys to the hotel unbroken, and with pockets full of hard candies from the bowl at the front desk.  These we supplemented with kebab and pizza for dinner, and then Dennis rushed out to get back to the apartment, while I got the kids settled for the night.  They were full of questions: how would they get to school tomorrow? Could I maybe take them? 

Which led me to ask myself, why would my kids possibly think that I'd send them on two buses alone? I guess I've expected a lot from them this year, but goodness gracious!

Anyway, reassured, the kids fell asleep early, Joey snoring less than a minute after being tucked in, and Alex following about five minutes later.

Ella, who is in our second hotel room, took care of her own bath and was reading obediently when I got there, with only a telltale smudge of chocolate on her cheek revealing that she hadn't a perfect angel.  But I was proud of her, nonetheless, and listened fondly while she told me about how grown-up she felt. "I've dealt with so many hardships this year! Putting up with my wild brothers. All the snowball fights on the school playground. Dragging three bags to the hotel...whew!"

Whew, indeed.