Moving is sorta like METH
As I write it is currently (is that redundant?) 2:16 in the a.m. I've spent the better part of 2 1/2 hours pacing my room, listening to some different shit ranging to the same Johnny Cash song (least half a dozen times), some Evanescence (don't judge me), and ... something that may be Chechnyan rap, I think 0.0 I was munching on the world's meatiest PBJ for a bit there, too, but I lost heart before following through. Drank all the milk, though. I think this may be the first half-gallon in weeks that I've bought that I won't have to dump out any of the contents of. Gasp.
I am now in the half-way phase. I'm half-way outta here and half-way into the new place, although technically most of my shit there's taking up space in the living room and the second floor hallway, so nothing's actually made it into my future room yet, but Dude-who's-moving-out has almost completely emptied the room, so I anticipate actual invasion tomorrow, followed by occupation in a day or two. My grandfather's coming up around noon tomorrow with his truck, and a few volunteers (Marie and Amber, both of whom along with Marie's mom helped me move different shit today at various parts of the day--books, a desk, various other furnishings and miscellanea i.e. crap) and he and I shall be moving all the big stuff I cannot even hope to somehow wedge in my backseat. Of course that means I won't have a bed to sleep on here tomorrow night, but I'll keep out my sheets and a comforter to fold over and lie on.
If I wind up sleeping here tomorrow night. I'm supposed to be joining Alex and Amber at this bar they essentially live at called Angels', so I may wind up on one of their couches afterward. But tomorrow afternoon/early evening, moving shit and cleaning up, because at some point Saturday the landlord comes and looks at this place and takes our keys and we're GONE.
--Which, amusingly, hadn't occurred to Byron and Karisa, the ones who've had a place in mind to move to for about two and a half weeks now. They thought, since we usually always delivered rent to Jeff (landlord) by the 5th, that meant they could stay here till August 5th, so they hadn't tried getting a rental truck for a few of their things until Sunday or Monday--the 1st or the 2nd.
Well, they thought wrong. Which they realized was sort of obvious after thinking about it a moment. And they were a little mad, but they also realized without my even needing to point it out that they never once bothered talking to the landlord about moving out. That, and it's pure fucking common sense. And the landlord refuses to let them leave those certain larger items here until Sunday or Monday, because they chose to break lease--I'm leaving more out of necessity.
But I asked my grandfather, and their new place isn't too far from mine, so it's not really out of the way, and he can move the few things they can't fit into Byron's car. Except officially they're not able to move stuff into their place until four tomorrow, and he'll have come and gone by then. But, with the possibility that Matt i.e. fucknutjob roommate may remain here and they may have to give him money for leaving stuff at what'll be his duplex for a day or so, I might just have my grandfather drive their shit to the house I'm moving into and I'll store that crap in my room for a day or two til they can get a truck and move it to theirs, because I'll be damned if anyone in this duplex gives that p.o.s. any money. I was telling my next-door neighbor (with whom I'd discussed the possibility of paying a bit for a tiny place in his home to live in until I found something, had the need arose) that his remaining in the house was a possibility, unfortunately (next-door neighbor does not like my roommate)--and I amused him by making a sorta historical metaphor out of the whole mess: if Matt remains, then I'm a Palestinian, he's Israel, and Byron and Karisa in their ability to fuck up everything without being cognizant enough to realize it, are the British XP
And I have no problem joking about that the day after staying up till one drinking with a bunch of Russian Jews. My friend Sasha and her boyfriend are moving to San Antonio, so it was going away party at her parents' house. I totally charmed them at her grad party and the stories were even better this time; her parents have been living the past year or two in South Africa and her mom was talking about their run-ins with the monkeys, who apparently have turquoise genitals and like to steal birth control pills. So, I guess they're bitchy because they're always hormonal and have blue balls. I'd probably be bitchy too.
I was telling some of my classmates and former classmates about the stuff that's been going on here at the house and how I'm in the process of moving. I have now been congratulated on escaping "Melrose Place." And given some of the stories told me that were loosely connected to my own, that's a very apt description of this place, or rather past and still-current occupants of said place. Very very apt.
Today I have discovered that where Italo Calvino becomes less comparable to John Barth, he becomes more so with Aleksander Wat. And if you recognize none of those names, rectify the situation. Rectify it now. I shall probably retire to reading some Calvino shortly, because I really ought to go to bed by, say, 3:30 if I want to rise with a few hours on my grandfather's arrival. Rectify it now.
I am now in the half-way phase. I'm half-way outta here and half-way into the new place, although technically most of my shit there's taking up space in the living room and the second floor hallway, so nothing's actually made it into my future room yet, but Dude-who's-moving-out has almost completely emptied the room, so I anticipate actual invasion tomorrow, followed by occupation in a day or two. My grandfather's coming up around noon tomorrow with his truck, and a few volunteers (Marie and Amber, both of whom along with Marie's mom helped me move different shit today at various parts of the day--books, a desk, various other furnishings and miscellanea i.e. crap) and he and I shall be moving all the big stuff I cannot even hope to somehow wedge in my backseat. Of course that means I won't have a bed to sleep on here tomorrow night, but I'll keep out my sheets and a comforter to fold over and lie on.
If I wind up sleeping here tomorrow night. I'm supposed to be joining Alex and Amber at this bar they essentially live at called Angels', so I may wind up on one of their couches afterward. But tomorrow afternoon/early evening, moving shit and cleaning up, because at some point Saturday the landlord comes and looks at this place and takes our keys and we're GONE.
--Which, amusingly, hadn't occurred to Byron and Karisa, the ones who've had a place in mind to move to for about two and a half weeks now. They thought, since we usually always delivered rent to Jeff (landlord) by the 5th, that meant they could stay here till August 5th, so they hadn't tried getting a rental truck for a few of their things until Sunday or Monday--the 1st or the 2nd.
Well, they thought wrong. Which they realized was sort of obvious after thinking about it a moment. And they were a little mad, but they also realized without my even needing to point it out that they never once bothered talking to the landlord about moving out. That, and it's pure fucking common sense. And the landlord refuses to let them leave those certain larger items here until Sunday or Monday, because they chose to break lease--I'm leaving more out of necessity.
But I asked my grandfather, and their new place isn't too far from mine, so it's not really out of the way, and he can move the few things they can't fit into Byron's car. Except officially they're not able to move stuff into their place until four tomorrow, and he'll have come and gone by then. But, with the possibility that Matt i.e. fucknutjob roommate may remain here and they may have to give him money for leaving stuff at what'll be his duplex for a day or so, I might just have my grandfather drive their shit to the house I'm moving into and I'll store that crap in my room for a day or two til they can get a truck and move it to theirs, because I'll be damned if anyone in this duplex gives that p.o.s. any money. I was telling my next-door neighbor (with whom I'd discussed the possibility of paying a bit for a tiny place in his home to live in until I found something, had the need arose) that his remaining in the house was a possibility, unfortunately (next-door neighbor does not like my roommate)--and I amused him by making a sorta historical metaphor out of the whole mess: if Matt remains, then I'm a Palestinian, he's Israel, and Byron and Karisa in their ability to fuck up everything without being cognizant enough to realize it, are the British XP
And I have no problem joking about that the day after staying up till one drinking with a bunch of Russian Jews. My friend Sasha and her boyfriend are moving to San Antonio, so it was going away party at her parents' house. I totally charmed them at her grad party and the stories were even better this time; her parents have been living the past year or two in South Africa and her mom was talking about their run-ins with the monkeys, who apparently have turquoise genitals and like to steal birth control pills. So, I guess they're bitchy because they're always hormonal and have blue balls. I'd probably be bitchy too.
I was telling some of my classmates and former classmates about the stuff that's been going on here at the house and how I'm in the process of moving. I have now been congratulated on escaping "Melrose Place." And given some of the stories told me that were loosely connected to my own, that's a very apt description of this place, or rather past and still-current occupants of said place. Very very apt.
Today I have discovered that where Italo Calvino becomes less comparable to John Barth, he becomes more so with Aleksander Wat. And if you recognize none of those names, rectify the situation. Rectify it now. I shall probably retire to reading some Calvino shortly, because I really ought to go to bed by, say, 3:30 if I want to rise with a few hours on my grandfather's arrival. Rectify it now.