The apartment needed four things.
One TV stand. One couch. Two dressers.
That was my entire delivery list for the Lower East Side.
The first message went out Saturday. I had already left a voicemail and wanted the delivery service's “titanium” option: purchase the attached list and bring it to me. The items appeared to be in stock at the Brooklyn IKEA.
I asked whether they could deliver around 6 p.m. Monday. I was also available for the rest of Saturday and Sunday if something earlier worked.
Sunday they wrote back that they did not work that day, but Monday at 6 p.m. was available. I confirmed and asked about payment. Cash on delivery.
Then they needed to know whether my original message included my address and phone number. I was at the gym and digging through email on my phone was a pain, so I resent everything.
That second message included the original request, the delivery information, and the item count in the simplest form I could make it. I said I would see them at 6 p.m. or later Monday if they did not need anything else.
I resent the delivery information and the four-line list:
One TV stand. One couch. Two dressers.
The truck was due the next evening. That was the plan. It had not arrived yet.
No furnished-loft reveal yet either. Just a confirmed time, COD, and four pieces that were still somewhere between an IKEA inventory page and my apartment.
Now I wait for the truck.