Thursday, March 02, 2006

The idea was briefly floated of simply staying in Richmond that night. The city was doing work at the new building, and the power would be off all morning, so no one was coming to help move until 2 in the afternoon. I finally decided, though, that it would be easier to go to bed late, rather than get up early.

So that's how I ended up driving the monstrous truck from Vancouver to Seattle at 1 in the morning, with a killer headache and a dodgy suspension that allowed me to experience every little bump and mmp in the road as intimately as a lover's buttocks. I had nightmares of getting to the border and the DHS clowns deciding to unload EVERY SINGLE THING and leaving me to it. It didn't help that they took the keys to both the ignition and the back. I sat in the office, getting an occasional glimpse as they started it up and drove around, and opened the back. Apparently they were satisfied that I hadn't filled it with a terror cell or ammonium nitrate, and after half an hour they sent me on my way. Good thing they didn't notice the dead babies filled with heroin.

A commercial from the mid-80s stated that moving day is "when you find out who your friends are." I've never been one to question the unfailing wisdom of television, and I can say that if it's true, then I have the best friends a fella can have. Not only did everyone bust it out in less than five hours, they set up the bed and brought me food.

Of course, right now the place is so stuffed with boxes that I seldom leave the bedroom, and there's no phone, cable, or internet connection. But hey, it's a major hurdle cleared, and that means fewer panic attacks, always a good thing. All that's left now is to get my kittykat here, and once that happens there's gonna be one hell of a housewarming party.

Copyright 2004 Rich Bowen

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