After hearing all the horror stories from both friends and online reviews, I was expecting the worse from U-haul. The night before, I was about to cancel the entire thing. I wanted to have the stores deliver to me (if purchase is over $50, delivery is free) rather than dragging it to the car myself and dragging it to the house. But everything turned out ok. Because I didn\\’t know the bus system and was extremely tired, I got to the U-haul place 30 minutes late. Kun was already waiting there…and had called me twice during my 2 mile hike. The cargo van was surprisingly clean…well up front. The gas tank was actually full. The AC actually worked. Fortunately, Kun offered to drive which allowed me to catch up on sleep and be a horrible navigator. And now I understand why every time I called the Washington Blvd station, I got put on hold. They\\’re constantly understaffed. No wonder U-haul can make good business.<\/p>\n
I now have a glass\/wood desk\/mobile cart set and office chair from Staples. A shelf for downstairs from Ikea. Only $24 worth of groceries from Super Walmart (when I first went inside, it was scary…the store that is a monopoly out here…and also intimidated by the number of pleasantly plump shoppers common in Pittsburgh). And a lunch from Eat \\’N Park. Personally, I still think I could have saved much more money by ordering online (hello $30 off $150 from Office Depot), but it\\’s too late now.<\/p>\n
Yesterday I met some undergrads (connection through my aunt). One of them described the dating scene. The reason why guys don\\’t go after CMU girls: \\”They\\’re either Chinese, married or ugly.\\” And about the high male to female ratio in the School of Computer Science (SCS): \\”The odds are good, but the goods are odd.\\”<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
After hearing all the horror stories from both friends and online reviews, I was expecting the worse from U-haul. The night before, I was about to cancel the entire thing. I wanted to have the stores deliver to me (if … Continue reading