to help those readers who've walked into the the half-baked half-truth halfway, i thought i'd summon up a small compendium of the circumstances, pertaining to this trip, to date. first, through a series of extraordinary events involving the construction of a kitchen among various other spaces contained within a dwelling, cat and i arrived approximately 2 weeks later than we should have. this provided us with the diverting task of condensing a move from an anticipated 3 weeks into 1. those of you unable to do this math, please leave through the yellow door.
now, for those of you concerned that i should leave my place unattended, where indeed squatters, thuggees, or other esoteric groups with double consonants might have broken in and used my domicile as a shelter, base, or bordello, let me lay your fears to rest. although i had not planned on the happy eventuality, my home was well guarded by an army of ants, which had not only claimed my kitchen sink in the name of their queen through the clever use of a flag, but had also set up several group therapy sessions for those ants concerned with the displacement of the condo's indigenous peoples, meaning me. i realize this was my fault, after the relocation (and occasional genocide) of the friendly house centipede (scroll down for it), an insectivore known for it's pleasant demeanor, fast feet, and ability to inspire horror even in the twisted imaginings of clive barker. regrettably, negotiation with the Formicidae armada broke down around the time i put approximately 2^17 bait traps around my kitchen, bath, living room, and anywhere else they were spotted (and, indeed, where the sweet, sweet remains of my life tend to wither and rot. mostly grenadine). so. that was that.
if you want to pretend they're in ant heaven, that's fine. if you prefer to think of them as writhing in ant-y torment in the great fires of what surely is an ant hell, then you and i have something in common. even if we're not both boys. by the way, did anyone else just picture a Sisyphean torment, ants forever trapped, the tenderest of filth just out of reach of their deadly jaws, the sweet quenching nectar that is my grenadine forever denied their parched, dry...erm...jaws? small boys forever focusing the sun through magnifying lenses on their backs? no? oops.
now enter our intrepid heroes. we cleaned. we washed. on occasion, we swabbed, though whether it be ear or deck, i can not reveal. i closely inspected the corners of my home for lint, as i would inspect the dark recesses of my own navel (...naval?) before a date with a belly fetishist. my parents, of both sexes, came up to assist. a veritable orgy of cleaning solvents and trips to our storage space ensued.
it is at this point i would like to recommend, or "pimp out" (in the parlance of our times) extra space storage. the one in saugus has a guy named "jim" working there. "jim" is perhaps the nicest person i've ever met. i think it's telling that, in an age where nice people just piss me off, "jim" was so nice he actually fell off the piss me off scale, landing firmly on the side of joy. to fully appreciate how bizarre this is, draw a circle. to guide you, i'm going to recommend labeling said circle as though it were a clock. those of you unfamiliar with an analog clock can go back to your "ddr" and "adhd" and stop reading this blog. or at least this blog entry, which is growing increasingly boring to write. so! at "6", we write the word "moderate". go on, i dare you. at "9", write "liberal", and at "3", "conservative". now, slowly take your stylus, and trace from "moderate" to "conservative", all the while imagining the decline of those people you used to respect as age, fear, and love of material goods sets in, and you talk less and less. now go a littler further. picture them clubbing baby seals. slightly farther, and as you reach the zenith of our analogic exercise, push this hopefully imaginary Mr. Hyde over into a ridiculously harmful, yet suddenly and even annoyingly gentle, pinko commie tree hugging wing nut. this is how confused i am over "jim". it might be love.
so, to wrap this up, in a shocking short time, we emptied my apartment of much of it's goods and/or services, though like the fishes and loaves (that's for you damned heretics), there was always something more. finally, we must bow in defeat. the realtor comes tomorrow, we take some few more things into our car, and our great adventure begins! hopefully, we will beat (senseless) the trailer which will be simultaneously carrying our things to the bright hope, hopefully bright, Seattle.
cheers
m!
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Monday, July 30, 2007
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