The Basement

The news was ominous and frightening.

“He says,” Nazy explained, “that there is a water leak in the basement.”

“So? They will have to fix it,” I replied.

“The leak is directly under our storage and we will have to clear..”

“Oh No!”

Like all Swiss apartments, ours includes a storage closet in the basement bomb shelter. Our storage contains an eclectic mixture of random stuff stacked to the ceiling. Luckily, many of the items are useless drivel that should be trashed. Unluckily, because I have been consistently unable to fathom Zürich’s complex garbage and recycling regulations, nothing has been disposed of. As a result, my response to the troubling situation mirrors a predator’s response to a skunk: avoidance. I never go to the basement. You can, therefore, imagine my reaction to Nazy’s suggestion, eh, command:

“We will have to sort the storage.”

“That means we will have to go downstairs and look at it.” I replied.

“And sort it, Dan. Be Brave!”

I shuttered.

Undaunted, Nazy enthusiastically directed activities. I moved everything into the hall. She sorted.

I noticed a musty smell as I dislodged useless waste, eh, treasured possessions. (The water leak had bubbled up through the crushed gravel ‘floor’.) Nazy, meanwhile, had rapidly constructed a “disposables” mound. Old and empty suitcases formed a foundation that was two meters high. In addition, we discovered several Apple Computers (last used in the previous millennium), a computer monitor heavier that the Battleship Missouri, and a collection of pots and pans that had been earmarked for donation to archaeological researchers. As these were cleared, I located cartons of VHS tapes (we no longer have a VHS player). Tape theme established, I uncovered a few boxes of cassette music tapes. (We found a cassette player in one of the boxes. It didn’t have a power cord.)

The musty smell grew stronger as I continued the excavation process. I eventually located something important – boxes of photographs and files of important papers. All suffered significant water damage. (My thesis, for example, had the pages stuck together and smelled like a broken septic tank.) Nazy, surveying several boxes of photographs from her childhood in Iran, was not amused.

“You, Dan, arranged the basement when we moved.”

“Well..”

“And you, Dan, put the most important stuff in the absolutely worst location.”

“I protected all of that stuff by covering it with impervious layers of suitcases and electronic equipment.”

“Dan..”

“Who would have thought that a Swiss residence would suffer from a water leak? I am sure there is a rule about that.”

Clearly on the back foot, I decided to change the subject. “Well, my dear,” I craftily began. “What do you plan to do with the stuff that you put in the ‘dispose’ pile?” Well aware of the garbage regulations, I was confident. “Heh, heh, heh,” I thought. “I wonder if she’ll try to stuff those suitcases into a Zürisack?”

“We will take it to Schneider’s in Meilen,” Nazy replied – instantly. (And triumphantly.)

“But..” I spluttered.

“Bunzi told me that Schneider will take everything.”

“For a fee,” I replied.

“A small fee, Dan.”

The following four sentences have been inserted into this post as the result of a spousal command: Schneider took the junk off of our hands. And, as Nazy predicted, the cost was low. She paid a meagre 10 Francs to get rid of a zillion suitcases and a variety of useless electronic equipment. Without her, nothing would have happened.

Update note from Dan: Schneider was closed when we arrived the first time.