Mister Cupcake, Cooper and I moved this weekend and at one point I was carrying a lamp in my right hand, clinging to some Christmas wrapping paper with my left armpit, balancing two baseball caps and a cowboy hat on my head as well as lugging a 600 pound backpack filled with hooks and frames and candles and maybe a hammer or two and I realized that moving is exactly like cooking Thanksgiving dinner. You plan and you list and you strategize and you decide what pot the peas will go in and which ladle will go with the gravy way in advance and you plot every move as if you were overtaking a small country and then in the last twenty minutes ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE and you scratch and claw and fight just to stay alive.
And this is all BEFORE you're forced to deal with unending hideous realities such as how you've accumulated so many extension cords and whether or not to drag your ass to Target to get another roll of contact paper.
Over and out,
Inventor of the question, "Where did you put the tape?"
4 comments:
I was sure you were going to make a "The Jerk" reference with the lamp, Christmas paper, baseball... and then I realized nah, too easy. I hope the move puts you closer to the beach and out of the alley.
Oy vay, I'm moving too in 2 weeks!! I think I need a separate box for my extension cords. And another one for all the ugly, cheap vases.
linlah: We ARE closer to the beach and the only alley is where OUR GARAGE is. We feel like royalty.
The Zadge: AS I TYPE THIS I am sitting next to two boxes marked "VASES" and they don't know this but some of them will not be with me much longer.
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