Wednesday, June 6, 2007

Moving, Part 2

Brucie,

Yesterday I watched that episode of the Simpsons where Marge and Moe turn Moe's tavern into a British Pub, and Homer gets jealous that they're having an emotional affair. Anyway, at the end of the episode, Homer and Marge sing "Love Will Keep Us Together," and THAT is what's stuck in my head right now. It's so bad I've caught myself humming it a few times. And it's the Homer lyrics, you know, "Some sweet talkin' guy in a thong....gives you a bong...."

The official Moving Day was Sunday. That was the day the movers came. At first, everything went great! They came about a half hour early, loaded up the truck with their giant beefy muscles, and then they were about to hop in and drive to the new place, when one of the beefy guys noticed a puddle of fluid under the truck. Upon closer inspection, it was brake fluid. Apparently, brakes are sort of important on giant moving trucks. So, the beefy movers had to call their boss, who drove out with his baby momma (I"m not kidding) to check out the truck.

45 minutes later, the new truck arrived and was loaded with my belongings from the other truck, the old truck was towed, and we were on our way. Once we got to the new apartment, we had some logistical problems. Option one was to park the truck in a parking lot that was far away, and carry the furniture about 1/4 of a mile around the building to the front, into the courtyard, through the downstairs entrance, and up to the 3rd floor in a tiny, dark staircase. Option two was to park in a smaller lot right by the outside staircases that went right up to my apartment, but simultaneously block in all the cars in the lot. Obviously, the movers went with option 2. This involved moving the truck every time someone wanted to leave.

About 2/3 of the way through my stuff, I heard a rumble of thunder, and drops started to fall from the overcast sky. In a few minutes, drops had turned into a full-on downpour, with thunder and lightning hitting VERY close by. The beefy movers were not deterred. They continued to run heavy, hastily packed boxes up to the 3rd and/or 4th floor, while I sat in my kitchen, freaking out about how long this was taking and what more could go wrong, chugging a beer and wiping off my furniture with paper towels. Before long, the rain turned into torrential rain, coming down at an angle towards my door. The seal under the upstairs bedroom door leaked a bunch of water into the guest bedroom, even though the door was closed and locked. The water also leaked down, so that I had to set up coffee mugs on my kitchen counters to catch the leaks.

Finally, the rain slowed down enough that they were able to move in the mattresses, and I hastily wrote a check for some insane amount of money, and it was over. I went out onto my upper deck, and saw that the street was completely flooded with about 6 inches of water, and cars were getting flooded out. I got some good pictures, including a guy standing on his pickup truck with the hood open, and some douchebag in a lexus having to be pushed to the next street by an ice cream truck. Unfortunately, my camera cord is still packed somewhere, so it will be awhile before I can share those gems with you.

I decided to take Monday off work and put together my bookshelves. I even alphabatized my books by author!


Aaaah, bookshelves. Now, I just have to unpack my clothes and the kitchen and I'll be set!

Sorry for the long post with almost no pictures!

Love, Brax

3 comments:

micah said...

Max, When I move, I find it critical to locate and unpack the box labled "Clean Undies" ...don't get it confused with the other "undies" boxes. Then, I like to locate the box that says "Toilet Paper" that one's critical!

Libby said...

Just stop!
Cause I need a sandwich. Stop! Or maybe a Manwich...

Matthew said...

Yeah, the thong / bong quote is great, but the sandwich / manwich line cannot be beat.