I’ve discovered why people lose things during a move.
It’s because that while you start out packing things all nice and organized–Wonder Woman collection in one box, nunchucks and other weapons in another box, handcuffs, vibrators and flavoured body paint in a third–you eventually get to the point where you don’t give a fuck where things are packed as long as they are in a box and the hell away from you.
It’s particularly unwise to be disorganized while packing when your mother is offering to help you unpack.
(“Kat, I was unpacking your towels and came across a box labeled “Sir Thumps-alot” that was mixed in with them. There’s a buzzing sound coming from it.”)
Despite my mother’s help, I’m still settling in so I’m way behind on my blog roll and on returning the comment love. I’ll catch up soon though. I usually wouldn’t do another post before I’ve caught up, but writing helps me maintain what semblance of sanity I have so I’ve decided to tell you about the moving day madness.
Moving day was as I imagine childbirth is like in that during it I was sweating, cursing and the male members of my family were terrified that I was going to flip out and scream and cry at them, and that by the end of the day I was exhausted and bleeding.
I awoke at around 4:30am on moving day. And when I say “awoke” I mean that I just decided to pull my zombie ass out the bed since I hadn’t actually slept in over a week. I had a few things to finish packing before my brother and BFF arrived to help with the move, so I got out my pile of newspaper to begin wrapping. Kira, however, decided that I wasn’t under enough stress so she decided to play “Let’s Be As Obnoxious As Possible”.
This game begins with your dog blasting into your pile of newspaper like a fucking maniac and scattering them all over the place.
Then she grabs your Domo stuffed animal which you are trying to pack along with the other Halloween things and takes off with it.
(Seriously, Kira does not play even play with her own stuffed toys so this was completely just her being a brat.)
((I don’t have a picture of this because I was too busy chasing Kira down to get the damn animal back. I eventually decided that I didn’t care and let her shake the shit out of it.))
Finally, when your BFF brings you doughnut for breakfast (because pink doughnuts are the breakfast of champions, ya’all), your dog proceeds to smack around the bag containing the doughnut with a fury that would be the envy of any pimp.
After playing this charming game with my dog, I then heard tales of my mother trying to take apart and move an old entertainment center from the spare bedroom where I would sleeping. Apparently the screwdriver wasn’t working so she just took a hammer and smashed the bastard apart.
I was unaware until that day that, not only had I received my love of slutty boots from my mother, but also my destructive nature. To prove that the psychotic apple doesn’t fall far from the insane tree, I too employed a hammer about an hour later when I was trying to take apart an inversion table. The only difference is that I called my hammer Mjolnir and declared myself to be Thor while doing it.
We were in the final process of carefully moving haphazardly throwing the furniture into my mother’s house when I nearly split my forehead open. BFF was holding my iron coffee table frame with the legs facing out and I decided to headbutt the bottom of one leg. This was not BFF’s fault at all, I’m seriously just a major klutz who walks into shit like this. And what made the situation even worse was that while my mother and BFF searched in panic for a bag of ice to stop the swelling I could not stop laughing. Again this is about par for me to be laughing my face off while blood trickles down from a huge goose egg erupting on my forehead.
Once the swelling subsided, and the final pieces of furniture were moved, we went to do what I do best–drink Tequila–because when you have a possible concussion it’s a good idea to suck down two margaritas as quickly as you can.
I might not have drank my ‘ritas as quickly except that our waiter was totally vibing on BFF and kept bringing us booze. And I drank it because that’s the kind of friend I am to sacrifice my liver to get my bestie some nookie. Unfortunately BFF was not drinking so the efforts of our enamored waiter did not impress him at all.
Don’t worry, I still drank enough for two people.
Thus concluded Major Moving Day.
Mini Moving Day Mini Post tomorrow.