Moving day
I helped a friend move this past weekend. Well, that’s not entirely accurate. I’ve had a sore back so my contribution consisted largely of sitting on the sofa to be certain that no rogue wind gusts would blow it away. And heckling those who were doing the real work. It’s not as easy as it might sound. The insults and criticisms need to be distributed in such a manner so as not to overwhelm any single worker while still maintaining a constant source of entertainment. But I’m never one to shy away from a challenge and I stepped up to the plate.
The week prior to the move Steve sent the customary blanket email to his entire address book pleading for help.
Hi everybody. We plan on starting our moving party at our soon-to-be-former residence about 8 AM this coming Saturday…. For your effort you'll receive a firm handshake, a hearty "Thanks", and some form of relatively inexpensive lunch to be decided upon by the group. A lot has been done already, and I'm thinking we'll probably be done by Noon. Thanks a ton: you're good people.
Steve
Noon. Noon. I’ll say one thing, I do admire his limitless capacity for apparently unmerited optimism. Also, it’s funny how he refers to it as a “party” as though folks will stop right there and say, “Party? I’m there!!”
The real workers (Tom and Tony) got an early start. By the time I arrived, they and Steve had the U-Haul half full. I’m telling you, if Tony and Tom hadn’t shown up, I have an idea that a good part of the summer would have been spent completing the move. I arrived in time to see the refrigerator pulled out from the wall. I’m… just… speechless. Wow. . It was kinda like a car accident – gruesome and morbid, but I just had to look. There was the usual collection of dirt, grime, and dust bunnies. Glued into this mung by a layer of grease was a collection of refrigerator magnets, utensiles, doses of medicine, dead bugs, and some other gunk that I’m afraid to recollect. Now, you’re probably thinking, “Jeez, what a creep, talking about his friend like that.” On the contrary. Steve and his family are not animals. The guy is an epidemiology (I couldn’t possibly have spelled that correctly and I don’t care so don’t bother to email me with the correct spelling) major and at one time was a health inspector. He’s a bit of a germ-phobe. He even brought his pocket meat thermometer on a camping trip to make sure the burgers I was cooking were bacteria-free. On previous visits the house was always neat and tidy. What strikes me so frightening is the fact that this guy is obsessive about germs and yet his fridge spot still looked like that. I’m now in fear of what has taken up residence behind my refrigerator. Whew, scary stuff.
The refrigerator was the last big item to be loaded into the now full U-Haul and Tony gave notice that it was about 11:00 and he had to leave. With the departure of Tony and the addition of Paul, Steve began to notice a distinct outbreak of lazy-ass on his team, starting with the largely inert Paul, who was apparently made from mild, soft cheese. Fortunately, what I lack in speed and energy, I make up for in abject defeatism. “Dude, you said this would be done by noon. We’ll be lucky if we’re done by midnight!” We spent the next 45 minutes or so loading oddly shaped items into my truck and Steve’s truck. The highlight of this was watching Steve nearly kill himself while retrieving his mountain bike from its perch in the rafters.
“Gimme a hand with this, would you?” as he attempted to balance the bike vertically.
“Oh, it’s all you, brother. You’ve got it.”
“Help… Seriously!!” as the bike crashed down onto his head. Comedy gold.
Around noon or so (the time that this entire exercise was supposed to be completed) we rolled into the driveway of the new house. With the addition of Ray, (one of Kiko’s workers) and the promise of lunch being imminent, the unloading went relatively quickly. My back was cramping pretty good so I limited myself to unloading the small, lightweight boxes labeled “toys” and “Steve’s awards and accomplishments.” When the truck was about half empty we broke for lunch. Just as we finished eating lunch, Dean and Chris showed up. The team made quick work of the remaining junk and readied for a return to the house for one last load. I elected to stay at the new house to help Dean lay new carpet in the new baby’s room. The work was considerably less strenuous, but I was continually subjected to a bird’s eye view of Dean’s crack as he measured and cut the carpet. In retrospect, it wasn’t worth it. However, I have partially regained my eyesight and I expect the nightmares will subside in a month or so. The guys returned with a small load and, by 3:00, the move was complete. Steve returned the truck to U-Haul and dropped Tom at his car. Later that afternoon, Steve decided he’d acquaint himself with how refrigerator doors function by taking them off and then reinstalling them several times. While Dean finished laying the carpet (did a fine job, too) Steve took dinner orders. He eventually shot his wad at Dan’s Super Subs (nothing’s too good for his friends, I suppose - and I mean that with all seriousness as Dan makes the best Hoagies on the west coast) and we all ate ourselves into a coldcut induced stupor.
I’ve always hated moving, but this time wasn’t so bad… I wonder why? Was it the fact that I didn’t ever break a sweat? Was it because of the company? Nah, I think it’s because of Dan’s. I love a good sammich.
The week prior to the move Steve sent the customary blanket email to his entire address book pleading for help.
Hi everybody. We plan on starting our moving party at our soon-to-be-former residence about 8 AM this coming Saturday…. For your effort you'll receive a firm handshake, a hearty "Thanks", and some form of relatively inexpensive lunch to be decided upon by the group. A lot has been done already, and I'm thinking we'll probably be done by Noon. Thanks a ton: you're good people.
Steve
Noon. Noon. I’ll say one thing, I do admire his limitless capacity for apparently unmerited optimism. Also, it’s funny how he refers to it as a “party” as though folks will stop right there and say, “Party? I’m there!!”
The real workers (Tom and Tony) got an early start. By the time I arrived, they and Steve had the U-Haul half full. I’m telling you, if Tony and Tom hadn’t shown up, I have an idea that a good part of the summer would have been spent completing the move. I arrived in time to see the refrigerator pulled out from the wall. I’m… just… speechless. Wow. . It was kinda like a car accident – gruesome and morbid, but I just had to look. There was the usual collection of dirt, grime, and dust bunnies. Glued into this mung by a layer of grease was a collection of refrigerator magnets, utensiles, doses of medicine, dead bugs, and some other gunk that I’m afraid to recollect. Now, you’re probably thinking, “Jeez, what a creep, talking about his friend like that.” On the contrary. Steve and his family are not animals. The guy is an epidemiology (I couldn’t possibly have spelled that correctly and I don’t care so don’t bother to email me with the correct spelling) major and at one time was a health inspector. He’s a bit of a germ-phobe. He even brought his pocket meat thermometer on a camping trip to make sure the burgers I was cooking were bacteria-free. On previous visits the house was always neat and tidy. What strikes me so frightening is the fact that this guy is obsessive about germs and yet his fridge spot still looked like that. I’m now in fear of what has taken up residence behind my refrigerator. Whew, scary stuff.
The refrigerator was the last big item to be loaded into the now full U-Haul and Tony gave notice that it was about 11:00 and he had to leave. With the departure of Tony and the addition of Paul, Steve began to notice a distinct outbreak of lazy-ass on his team, starting with the largely inert Paul, who was apparently made from mild, soft cheese. Fortunately, what I lack in speed and energy, I make up for in abject defeatism. “Dude, you said this would be done by noon. We’ll be lucky if we’re done by midnight!” We spent the next 45 minutes or so loading oddly shaped items into my truck and Steve’s truck. The highlight of this was watching Steve nearly kill himself while retrieving his mountain bike from its perch in the rafters.
“Gimme a hand with this, would you?” as he attempted to balance the bike vertically.
“Oh, it’s all you, brother. You’ve got it.”
“Help… Seriously!!” as the bike crashed down onto his head. Comedy gold.
Around noon or so (the time that this entire exercise was supposed to be completed) we rolled into the driveway of the new house. With the addition of Ray, (one of Kiko’s workers) and the promise of lunch being imminent, the unloading went relatively quickly. My back was cramping pretty good so I limited myself to unloading the small, lightweight boxes labeled “toys” and “Steve’s awards and accomplishments.” When the truck was about half empty we broke for lunch. Just as we finished eating lunch, Dean and Chris showed up. The team made quick work of the remaining junk and readied for a return to the house for one last load. I elected to stay at the new house to help Dean lay new carpet in the new baby’s room. The work was considerably less strenuous, but I was continually subjected to a bird’s eye view of Dean’s crack as he measured and cut the carpet. In retrospect, it wasn’t worth it. However, I have partially regained my eyesight and I expect the nightmares will subside in a month or so. The guys returned with a small load and, by 3:00, the move was complete. Steve returned the truck to U-Haul and dropped Tom at his car. Later that afternoon, Steve decided he’d acquaint himself with how refrigerator doors function by taking them off and then reinstalling them several times. While Dean finished laying the carpet (did a fine job, too) Steve took dinner orders. He eventually shot his wad at Dan’s Super Subs (nothing’s too good for his friends, I suppose - and I mean that with all seriousness as Dan makes the best Hoagies on the west coast) and we all ate ourselves into a coldcut induced stupor.
I’ve always hated moving, but this time wasn’t so bad… I wonder why? Was it the fact that I didn’t ever break a sweat? Was it because of the company? Nah, I think it’s because of Dan’s. I love a good sammich.
posted by willhuntforfood at 12:26 PM
1 Comments:
Thanks, buddy. I was hoping the sheer pleasure of the company would make everyone forget my noon finishing-time predicition, but now you've gone and preserved it for posterity. This post and the bike-chain burn on my forehead can now be dual reminders of your contributions to my move.
Post a Comment
<< Home