"I can't remember what I used to do..."
I. Hate. Moving.
Really, a lot, I hate it.
The result though is that I am getting rid of a lot of crap that I have been hanging on to... I think.
But that doesn't change the fact that all things being equal I would rather drop a hand grenade into my current space take the insurance money and start anew with a couple pairs of clean underwear, my laptop and six pairs of shirts and shorts.
Totally separate note.
Last night at work a man, an older man, lost his car. He thought it had been stolen: but it hadn't. So we called the police and they showed up and took one look at this guy and said, "So you lost your car, do you know about where you lost it?" The guy sat there and literally scratched his head then his wife jumped in and I lost the plot entirely. She was convinced that she lost the car near "that little restaurant with the parking lot and the valets."
The cop found the gentleman's car. It was parked outside of a strip club called the Sportsman. Which has a couple of bouncers out front and a parking lot attached to it. I nearly lost my shit. The fact that anybody, at all, ever, would confuse this place with a nice little restaurant was the end for me. And I retired to get some dinner.
On my way home, through torrents of rain, I was somehow able to catch a cab, which in Providence is a lot like catching a leprauchan. It was a red gypsy cab called MM Taxi and when I sat down I thought I was going to die. I mean literally not going to come home ever. Moving? Moot. Anniversaries, birthdays, Christmas? Moot. I was going to be dead. The door that Lovely Wife had crawled in shut and my eyes did a slow motion blink--like in the movies where the character blinks and it goes into a weird slow-mo screen cut and his voice becomes blurred (can a voice become blurred?)--as I told the driver my address and he pulled away. But then...
Something strange and wonderful happened. He turned up the stereo and started singing Through the Years by Kenny Rogers and I felt like everything was going to be okay.
And now, alas, I have to go and continue packing. Which is just about my least favorite thing in the whole world.
I have finished my aforementioned 20 Favorite Songs and as soon as I get my CDs from the other parties I will post them all. I have to admit, I am very pleased with mine.
Really, a lot, I hate it.
The result though is that I am getting rid of a lot of crap that I have been hanging on to... I think.
But that doesn't change the fact that all things being equal I would rather drop a hand grenade into my current space take the insurance money and start anew with a couple pairs of clean underwear, my laptop and six pairs of shirts and shorts.
Totally separate note.
Last night at work a man, an older man, lost his car. He thought it had been stolen: but it hadn't. So we called the police and they showed up and took one look at this guy and said, "So you lost your car, do you know about where you lost it?" The guy sat there and literally scratched his head then his wife jumped in and I lost the plot entirely. She was convinced that she lost the car near "that little restaurant with the parking lot and the valets."
The cop found the gentleman's car. It was parked outside of a strip club called the Sportsman. Which has a couple of bouncers out front and a parking lot attached to it. I nearly lost my shit. The fact that anybody, at all, ever, would confuse this place with a nice little restaurant was the end for me. And I retired to get some dinner.
On my way home, through torrents of rain, I was somehow able to catch a cab, which in Providence is a lot like catching a leprauchan. It was a red gypsy cab called MM Taxi and when I sat down I thought I was going to die. I mean literally not going to come home ever. Moving? Moot. Anniversaries, birthdays, Christmas? Moot. I was going to be dead. The door that Lovely Wife had crawled in shut and my eyes did a slow motion blink--like in the movies where the character blinks and it goes into a weird slow-mo screen cut and his voice becomes blurred (can a voice become blurred?)--as I told the driver my address and he pulled away. But then...
Something strange and wonderful happened. He turned up the stereo and started singing Through the Years by Kenny Rogers and I felt like everything was going to be okay.
And now, alas, I have to go and continue packing. Which is just about my least favorite thing in the whole world.
I have finished my aforementioned 20 Favorite Songs and as soon as I get my CDs from the other parties I will post them all. I have to admit, I am very pleased with mine.
posted by V. at 9:10 AM
2 Comments:
"I nearly lost my shit."
PRICELESS!
I love the fact that you actually DID catch a cab, just by hailing it. I don't think I've ever seen that happen here. Next time there's a rainbow we're going to catch that damn leprechaun.
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