I moved! I now live someplace else! Not where I was before! I'm not telling where exactly-- I saw that Internet Pervert Special on oh, every news channel ever, I know what's up, you dirty Internet Perverts!-- but it rhymes with Sholumbia Peights, Mistrict of Sholumbia.
Unlike other moves (see September, all years) I have made, this weekend I managed to pull it off pretty easy and it was mainly disaster free. Maybe its the wisdom of my accumulated years. Maybe its the lesbian who drove me everywhere and did everything for me. Who can say? I do have to give a special shout out to the Frenchman, the SLF's roommate, and my mom, for their hard work and serious effort. I owe you big. And when this whole librarian thing pays off, I'll be showering these great people with riches and wealth beyond imagining.
In fiction books.
That the library would otherwise throw away.
The rest of you can die of jealousy.
At the mid-point in the day (the first half being spent getting all of the shit into the cargo van) all of the little bits and pieces and boxes and crates had made it into the living room, and some even up to my bedroom. This left the mattress, the dresser, the head board, the bed frame, and the box spring. That's right, the big guns.
We went in mattress first. It was ugly. The staircase is narrow and makes a complete about-face halfway up. There was shoving, twisting, cursing, bending, bombs going off, soldiers lying dead in fields, someone cried out, "Mama!", and then it was through. Having done this, we realized the box spring just wasn't going to make it. It could never bend like we needed it to bend. I even said fuck it to all the other shit (the dresser, the headboard, the bed frame, etc) but cooler heads prevailed and I got my dresser and my bed frame up there.
Then SLF and I were off to Ikea to get boards for the bed frame, so my mattress wouldn't sink right through to the floor. Did you know Ikea made boards for people who can't have a box spring to support their mattress? We're talking special boards, with long strips of cloth stapled down the length so that they can be spaced evenly along the frame. Oh those Swedes, they think of everything! Except that the boards were a half inch too long for my frame. The SLF and I re-couped and devised a new plan that involved Home Depot and planks of plywood, but the fuckers didn't have any cut to fit and their in-store machine was out-of-service! So we went back to Rockville and sawed a half inch off of every single Ikea board and I slept like a baby that night.
And at this juncture in the story, I would also like to take a moment to thank the Special Lady Friend for really truly doing everything and driving me everywhere. She hauled, she carried, she drove the van, and then she drilled and levelled and installed like nobody's business. We also ran errands.
Seriously though, never underestimate a dyke with power tools. I would look at corner and say "hmm, maybe a shelf ther--" and then arms and power tools a-flyin', the woman installed a shelf and made me a cappuccino before I could finish the sentence. She was like the many armed Shiva of Home Improvement, with a necklace of bent nails, a golden tool belt around her waist, and the ruins of years of shoddy drywall at her feet. Bow down to her! Mighty is the wrath of She Who Drills With Tools of Power!!
Anyway, I really did end up renting a U-haul cargo van, thereby checking off Lesbian Cliche #245 from the list. (Next up, mullets and Provincetown! Then I adopt some babies from China!)
Whenever I find the battery to my camera, and unpack that box, and charge it, I will take some pics and show you the glory of my new apartment. And glorious it is! Long live Sholumbia Peights!