Fast note about Final Move-Out Day

I took today off. I have all the heavy or cumbersome stuff other than the granite tabletop in storage in Methuen. I got at least one volunteer to lift the tabletop (thank you thank you, adaptively) and I'm waiting on the replies from a couple others. I have been tired most of the day. I dropped a corner of a bookshelf on my knee (bruising but no blood).

chaggalagirl's goldfish now live in a koi pond in graciana's parents' place. I think it's the most exotic realm they'll even see, so I'm happy for them. Their aquarium went to a new home Monday night and the old couch got carted this morning. All that's left is the tabletop and shoving cookware, dishes and loose crap into boxes. It can be done.

I am about to take an hour's nap. I would love to collapse for longer but I don't have that privilege. The U-Haul panel van is a much sweeter ride than the "Mom's Attic" truck: it's got cruise control and amazing mirror views. Oh, and it can go 80, which was useful on 495.

-must sleep then rouse for more world domination, Dante

Guess who didn't finish moving out?

I'm too cool for my soon-to-be-ex-landlady's bullshit. If she really meant to have the pad available for sale on December First, she would not have taken delivery on a new stove (a nice Fridgadaire, too) and dishwasher (oy) and not had them hooked up. I left her a voice message letting her know I can finish my Saturday but that's it.

The marble tabletop? still there. Poor tkitch had to work until nine, the most righteous adaptively couldn't lift it either. I asked a few others and heard nothing from one (not gonna name names... no really, I'm not cuz Kitch is the only person whose balls I break that way and Kitch had a real obligation) and found out another didn't think he could do the lift. It's true.

Tomorrow, fuck the old apartment. I'll deal on Friday and Saturday. When I woke up from my nap, I must've had some deep delta sleep because it felt like I woke up a decade later. Hell, I woke up feeling like Dante the Butch Mofo instead of Dante the Whiner. Felt good, damnit. However, my left knee said "still, you need to get fucked." Dang.

I dragged adaptively to dinner and then to Melrose. We shot the shit while loading boxes. I grabbed my office chair, my filing cabinet and the last of my vinyl albums along with two boxes of books and headed to the storage joint in Methuen.

It turns out they don't lock the automatic doors at nine. Instead, the punch-key access to the elevator locks at nine. Thus I could enter my code and see my name along with "access denied" and the time. 9:03. Ah well. So I drove back to Lexington, dropped off crap, had a hit of water, dropped off the van and got stuck on 93.

Usually I avoid rubbernecking. However, adaptively and I were privilege to the sight of one car off the left side of the southbound lane about a mile and change after exit 35 with its side nearly sheared. Then we saw the tractor trailer that jack-knifed and landed on its side into the median and onto the other direction's carriageway. That's primo carnage, folks! I got my time's worth from twenty minutes of waiting. Besides, chillin' on an expressway is a lot of fun when you're shooting the shit with someone who rawks.

Anyway, I had a good evening. I need to recover physically. I also need to hire a couple guys named Beef and have them move what little of my crap remains. Shove stuff in boxes, gentlemen -- I can't take this anymore.

-all alone in my white boy pain, Dante

P.S.: I'm not quite a winner in NaNoMoShAlMo -- National Move your Shit out mostly Alone within a Month. I had thought to call it "NanoMoShmo" but I no longer feel like a schmo even though I did for the last week.