I will have sporadic Internet until the cable guy comes on September 9. I will have to remember to get some rose petals to strew before him (or her).
In the meantime, here is the tale of moving out of my apartment, while I still remember it, and while I should be doing a spot of freelance work instead:
I had geniusly scheduled a yard sale on Saturday, August 23 with the intent of leaving Sunday, August 24. My notion was to get completely out of the house and spend my last NC night at Brandi’s house. Brandi took this plan and rubbed some Brandi brains on it which caused it actually to succeed.
Brandi Brains #1: Start putting stuff out at 4:30 AM for the 7:00 AM yard sale, instead of starting at 6:00 AM as I had planned. I’m not sure why, after at least 4 yard sales in my adult life, I persist in believing one hour is enough time to get everything out of the house, lay it out and price it. Fortunately, Brandi was all like, “Hey, I’m gonna be up at 4:30 AM anyhoo, why don’t I come by and help you carry a bunch of heavy stuff? You know, for fun?” Cos that’s what she did.
Brandi Brains #2: Liberal application of Dunkin Donuts iced coffee.
So the yard sale commenced. I had hoped to sell $400 of stuff, and that’s exactly what it ended up to be. Wooot. Woooooooot. In the meantime, Anne of the Art Department also came over for chillin’ and moral support. This caused the yard sale to be more of a social outing than an endurance trial of sweat and anxiety. Which is nice.
So around noon we loaded up the remnants into various vehicles and took a break. I ingested 500g of yard salin’ fuel (Chipotle naked burrito) and hauled the requisite stuff to Goodwill and Habitat Restore, picked up some laundry.
About 3:00 PM I dragged home, setting personal bests for sweating, and was pretty tie-tie. But I still had to pack the Jeep and do a final sweep of the house.
Should I take a nap or just bulldoze through it? Well, you know me. Bulldoze it was.
But then something very strange happened. Twice.
Sam called to say she wanted to drop by and say goodbye. I ca-a-a-a-asually mentioned that some Jeep -loading might be happening, and that she need not participate, but I would love for her to keep me company while I did it.
Also there was a big brown leather chair that would eventually need affixing to the top of the Jeep if she was still around for that just sayin’.
So Sam dropped by. And proceeded to help me carry down the deranged amount of debris I intended to put in the Jeep.
THEN ANNE CAME BACK. I dew not know why Anne came back. She had been lightly crispened by the yard sale’s sun, and yet had come back for more. She also helped bring down debris.
Now would be a good time to mention the case of beer living in my fridge, leftover from my birthday party. We each got a beer and began to fulfill our awesomeness potential.
Sam and Anne consented to sitting on my porch, getting thoroughly nommed by mosquitoes, and keeping me company while I squished everything in the Jeep. And squish I did. They provided helpful hints and Tetris knowledge.
At last the Jeep was packed to the gills, and I had to start sticking unfittables into the walk-in closet upstairs. I should, um, let the new housemates know about that. Sorry new housemates. I’m gonna come back for them soon. By soon I mean the spring. We’ll talk.
And now it was time for the big brown chair. This chair is very awesome. I wouldn’t strap any ordinary chair to the top of the Jeep to take to Albuquerque to its owner, but this is no ordinary chair. It is comfy and very light and one person can lift it and move it around, although two people are desired for lifting it on top of Jeeps.
During the Jeep-packing phase, Anne told a few stories involving a roll of industrial plastic wrap from her father’s veneering company. It had been used for great amusement, including wrapping AN ENTIRE HOUSE so that its occupants could not exit the next morning. Comedy. Gold.
As we approached the brown chair phase, Anne suggested that we could also wrap it in plastic. Because she had the roll in her car at that very moment. Who doesn’t have a roll of industrial plastic wrap in their car at all times in case a friend needs to take a chair to Albuquerque? That is so art department. Anne rocks me like a hurricane.
We wrapped the chair:
I had about three beers in me and I highly recommend this for a moving day. It suddenly became much easier to make decisions about what to leave behind, and exactly how clean I was going to leave the place for my landlord.
The chair thoroughly wrapped, tarped (with some duct tape Anne also JUST HAPPENED TO HAVE) and bungeed, I was ready to enter the final phase of the move out — sweep, shower, and Steve and Barry’s.
If I told you the bathwater I produced was absolutely gray with filth, would you be impressed or nauseated? Whoops. Too late.
On to Steve and Barry’s, listening to M.I.A. very, very loud, and making plans to come back in the spring, ‘cos you don’t get Brandis and Annes and Sams every day.
At Steve and Barry’s everything was $9, which happens a lot, and I got some new sneaks to replace the old sneaks I had worn to death… smelly, smelly death… and threw the old sneaks away in the mall trash because I am a classy lassie. There were also some tasty bitch boots but I had to pass because I honestly had nowhere to put them in the Jeep. NO WHERE.
So we all returned to my house. Brief goodbyes — there is no need for emotion when you have shared beers, duct tape and bitch boots — and I did a last sweep of the apartment (I still left my tire iron — ewps — thank you Jeep for keeping all 4 tires all across the country). SHWIP went my key in the landlord’s mail slot. Goodbye to Winston-Salem.
I made the last drive to Brandi’s house. I had known all day that I would have made it when I got to Brandi’s. I would be done. I would have sweet victory. And I did, and I was, and I did. Brandi had a huge pot of chili with beef chunks in it the size of my fist, and I helped myself to delicious beef chili and sour cream and scuppernong wine, and we watched Aerosmith videos and behind-the-sceneses on DVD, and I was probably the happiest Tory in the Eastern Time Zone.
I woke up spontaneously at 7:00 AM with Aerosmith hair. I will bottle whatever combination of elements gave me Aerosmith hair at Brandi’s house, and I will make a fortune.
We chilled out for a couple of hours before I took off. There was a Scooby Doo marathon on TV, and if you haven’t watched 4 episodes of Scooby Doo to mellow you out before a big drive, I highly recommend it. I have many thoughts about the Scooby Doo narrative approach, and how certain animation workarounds create a disjointed, pleasantly unsettled sensation, but I will save those for another day.
Suffice to say that Scooby Doo was wicked.
And then that was it. Goodbye, Brandi. Goodbye, Brandi’s offspring. I hope I left enough Jake hair for you.
Much love to everyone.