Sunday, September 04, 2005
I detest moving. I don't mind helping others move because it is not the actual moving that I hate. What I hate is all the packing and living out of boxes for an undeterminate time. Angry Joyce and I joke about the hatred of moving being the main reason that we are still together since neither one of us wants to move out. If either of us leaves we will probably leave all of our shit with the other and buy new shit and we are both to stubborn to leave the other our shit.
We have a few moving stories of our own. From the time she was unpacking at the new place and I hauled a full fridge 30 miles and then received a royal ass eating, when it got there with spilt ketchup and various other food plastered to the inside to the time and a brand new recliner being dropped and broken. But for the most part, our moves have been without mishaps.
I would be remiss if I didn't jot down a few stories of freinds and family. An old freind of mine has stated that she was the Queen of the Midnight Move. Her ex-husband was a louse and so they were constantly moving away from the wrath of an angry and unpaid landlord. She got so crafty at the art of moving that once when her ex told her they had to do a quick move on a spur of the moment, she loaded up a sink of dirty dishes into the back of the truck and after packing all of their stuff up, she power washed the dishes at a carwash on the way to the new place.
Another freind was moving back to her husband from a hiatus in marital bliss and her mother-in-law stuffed her christmas tree in the back seat of a car. She didn't take off the ornaments, lights, icicles, or anything else. It leaves the impression of The Grinch Who Stole Christmas stuffing the christmas trees up the chimney and into his sleigh.
The toughest move that I was ever a part of was helping my parents move when dad got out of farming and moved to town. After 20 plus years in the same place, it is amazing how much shit can accumulate and my parents are both somewhat packrats. I must admit that I have inherited the same packrat tendencies so I think that Angry Joyce and my marriage will last for a while yet.
Yesterday I helped my little bro Big D move to his new digs. It was about time he split the renting world and bought a home of his own. His roomate and brother Crazy Dan had already set up shop. Guess that he was ready for a new spread. Good luck in the new dig guys and hope you enjoy this housewarming pic of Poisen Ivy.