Now that we've moved
The weekend has come and gone, and man, it was a bitch. And not just your standard bitch, either—this weekend was a dirty blonde lady who throws a can of delicious Progresso tomato bisque at Dahl's, smacking you in the teeth and bloodying your lip, only to then launch her cart at your junk and then fling a jar of her childrens' uring at your hair, and then, upon your slow, pointless retaliation, turns and flees, catching "her" wig on a box of whole wheat pasta, and who then turns and decides that in order to cover "her" crossdressing secret, you must die.
My favorite parts of this weekend were:
Dumping my bookshelf at Ankeny for lack of space, then finding that none of the Goodwills in Des Moines stocked any (despite my seeing at least four last December), then driving to Ankeny, then cruising past the Ankeny dumpster, then trying to go back to Des Moines then east to East Des Moines, getting lost (Sarah: there it is! This is Euclid! Me: No it's not, this is Douglas. Road: Ha hyuck, ah changed names!), and realizing that the Slav Nation Army doesn't operate on Sunday.
Dropping the newly assembled bookshelf onto my toe, then later de-shoeing myself to find my sock soaked in blood and a few triangular chunks of flesh missing from my foot.
Learning that because I put my car's battery in Sarah's car, acid might eat through her floor boards.
But my real favorite parts were:
Putting little Amish to bed in what was, for a night, my bedroom, hoping he didn't realize that for some reason the mattress was damp.
Having a quadrillion visitors in the house, and realizing that there was still more room!
Going to bed behind a fucking bedroom door.
And I have mixed feelings about:
Realizing that the circular holes in Amish's jeans were caused by battery acid.
If the other residents of Le Chateau (de Flop) feel like me, then they are eternally (or, at least, for a few more days) grateful to everyone who helped us move. Transferring Bunny's entire apartment (and Bunny has a lot of nice [see: heavy] furniture) was a hard enough job for me, Goathead, Bunny, and two relatives; moving Bunny's apartment plus Ryan's and Andy's apartment would have killed Andy, Sarah, Bunny and me. John, Kevin, and Amish in particular win special achievement awards. You will always be welcome to come pass out in our beds or eat our cereal or juggle our Transformers.
Kevin's special achievement was helping haul a futon up a narrow staircase, then backing it down into the dining room, disassembling it, and bringing it back up. Amish was just a good little mover. John: did everything.
We'll have pictures (especially of Spooky Wignall's Pondside Tap) up once we get that newfangled Interweb hooked up. Right now, without Mediacom and without our cell chargers, communications in Le Chateau are circa-1902 level. (If anyone knows how to hook up a telegraph, we may want to speak to you.)
My favorite parts of this weekend were:
Dumping my bookshelf at Ankeny for lack of space, then finding that none of the Goodwills in Des Moines stocked any (despite my seeing at least four last December), then driving to Ankeny, then cruising past the Ankeny dumpster, then trying to go back to Des Moines then east to East Des Moines, getting lost (Sarah: there it is! This is Euclid! Me: No it's not, this is Douglas. Road: Ha hyuck, ah changed names!), and realizing that the Slav Nation Army doesn't operate on Sunday.
Dropping the newly assembled bookshelf onto my toe, then later de-shoeing myself to find my sock soaked in blood and a few triangular chunks of flesh missing from my foot.
Learning that because I put my car's battery in Sarah's car, acid might eat through her floor boards.
But my real favorite parts were:
Putting little Amish to bed in what was, for a night, my bedroom, hoping he didn't realize that for some reason the mattress was damp.
Having a quadrillion visitors in the house, and realizing that there was still more room!
Going to bed behind a fucking bedroom door.
And I have mixed feelings about:
Realizing that the circular holes in Amish's jeans were caused by battery acid.
If the other residents of Le Chateau (de Flop) feel like me, then they are eternally (or, at least, for a few more days) grateful to everyone who helped us move. Transferring Bunny's entire apartment (and Bunny has a lot of nice [see: heavy] furniture) was a hard enough job for me, Goathead, Bunny, and two relatives; moving Bunny's apartment plus Ryan's and Andy's apartment would have killed Andy, Sarah, Bunny and me. John, Kevin, and Amish in particular win special achievement awards. You will always be welcome to come pass out in our beds or eat our cereal or juggle our Transformers.
Kevin's special achievement was helping haul a futon up a narrow staircase, then backing it down into the dining room, disassembling it, and bringing it back up. Amish was just a good little mover. John: did everything.
We'll have pictures (especially of Spooky Wignall's Pondside Tap) up once we get that newfangled Interweb hooked up. Right now, without Mediacom and without our cell chargers, communications in Le Chateau are circa-1902 level. (If anyone knows how to hook up a telegraph, we may want to speak to you.)
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