Well, son of a bitch, after 6 weeks I’m finally done. Of course, 90% of what I am looking for is lost in the 2000 boxes I have stashed in the attic, basement and garage. I’m sure like all the other moves in my life, I’ll get around it the same way I always do. Go out, buy it again, and find the packed away one the next day. Part of the reason is my scientific method of specifically and deliberately marking all the cartons with hieroglyphics and cryptic markings. Some of the crates even have those little side ways Egyptian guys and cave drawings of mastodons. It made perfect sense when I loaded them up. Now it’s just gibberish.
Part of the move consisted of numerous trips to goodwill with items like my 9th grade earth science book, a thermal paper fax machine from 1991 and no less than 3 salt and pepper shakers sets still in the box, one in the shape of some black and white cows. What the hell was I thinking when I bought that? The only bad thing is, if the 9th grade calls me back, I can’t go, because I gave away the text book. Then again, I was in 9th grade in 1973 so maybe they have new stuff by now.
And talk about tired. Nothing says “out of shape” like walking up and down steps with boxes and furniture. And shoveling snow. It seems like the minute I get the driveway cleared it starts all over again. I don’t know what I was thinking. I could have stayed in my nice rented townhouse, where magically the sidewalk and driveway shoveled itself. But, nooooooo, I went and bought a house. Next comes the mowing. I don’t know what I hate worse. Freezing while I chop ice off the driveway or sweating to death while I pick hayseeds and flies out of my teeth.
Well at least now, I can do whatever I want to the place. Like paint it purple with a yellow smiley face on the roof, put an anti aircraft gun on the front lawn and point it at my neighbors picture window, tie a barking junkyard dog on a one foot rope to the tree in the front yard, park old cars in various states of de-composition in the driveway, fill an old bathtub with dirty water and start a mosquito pond, let the pennysavers and junk mail pile up under the mailbox into a soaking wet heap, play “Paradise by the Dashboard Light” on repeat and blast it out of the garage for a week straight, run a chain saw at 6AM on Sunday morning. You know. All the things that make for being a good neighbor. Because after all, deep down inside, I’m a people person.
These bastards don’t know what their in for!
Part of the move consisted of numerous trips to goodwill with items like my 9th grade earth science book, a thermal paper fax machine from 1991 and no less than 3 salt and pepper shakers sets still in the box, one in the shape of some black and white cows. What the hell was I thinking when I bought that? The only bad thing is, if the 9th grade calls me back, I can’t go, because I gave away the text book. Then again, I was in 9th grade in 1973 so maybe they have new stuff by now.
And talk about tired. Nothing says “out of shape” like walking up and down steps with boxes and furniture. And shoveling snow. It seems like the minute I get the driveway cleared it starts all over again. I don’t know what I was thinking. I could have stayed in my nice rented townhouse, where magically the sidewalk and driveway shoveled itself. But, nooooooo, I went and bought a house. Next comes the mowing. I don’t know what I hate worse. Freezing while I chop ice off the driveway or sweating to death while I pick hayseeds and flies out of my teeth.
Well at least now, I can do whatever I want to the place. Like paint it purple with a yellow smiley face on the roof, put an anti aircraft gun on the front lawn and point it at my neighbors picture window, tie a barking junkyard dog on a one foot rope to the tree in the front yard, park old cars in various states of de-composition in the driveway, fill an old bathtub with dirty water and start a mosquito pond, let the pennysavers and junk mail pile up under the mailbox into a soaking wet heap, play “Paradise by the Dashboard Light” on repeat and blast it out of the garage for a week straight, run a chain saw at 6AM on Sunday morning. You know. All the things that make for being a good neighbor. Because after all, deep down inside, I’m a people person.
These bastards don’t know what their in for!
