You Just Never Realize…
Three and a half years ago, when I moved to Utah, I did a massive purge of my life. I went through everything I owned and either gave away or threw away about 90% of it. It was tough, but necessary, and when it was all said and done, it was worth it. So many things you own have less value than you believe. My move to Utah went smoothly, and part of that was due to the fact that I got rid of the clutter. I moved only the essentials.
Fast-forward to now. I’m moving again, only this time it’s just a couple of miles down the street. Trading my severely overpriced, super-ghetto apartment with its gang shootings, exploding units, and the occasional drug bust for a slightly less ghetto apartment, which is much cheaper and a tad nicer. I’ll tell you, you just never realize how much stuff you have until you need to move it. Somewhere, somehow, over the last three years, I’ve accumulated a whole bunch more junk. How did this happen? I was looking over my various piles today wondering where some of it came from. Why did I buy this? Did someone give this to me? Did fairies break into my house and leave these here? How does this happen?
And just how does one move a Lovesac anyway? These things are huge, and not only are they heavy, they are Volkswagen-sized shifting blobs of heavy, never allowing you to actually grip them or heft them in any way. Egad!
Somewhere, I acquired a 25lb block of WED clay. I assume it was one of my projects that I had passionate interest in for about 10 minutes. It’s sitting in my closet now, waiting for me to move it. What on earth am I to do with it at my new place? A huge, grayish block of dirt. As if there wasn’t enough dirt already, now I’m gong to pack some up and take it with me. Wonderful.
I think the heaviest thing I own must be the two boxes of books I moved earlier tonight. I put them on a dolly and took great pleasure in dragging them down the stairs of my old place. BAM!…BAM!…BAM!… went the dolly-load of heavy book boxes on each stair, whilst I gleefully chuckled at the displeasure of the neighbors. I can’t wait to move my washer and dryer for that very same reason tomorrow.
Comcast, being an evil and horrible corporate entity of such magnitude that they could make Hitler cry and Dick Cheney piss his pants, informed me that they need to send a technician to my new apartment to hook up my Internet connection. I cordially pointed out that I already had all the equipment, and I’m quite smart enough to connect a coaxial cable, and all I wanted them to do is change the address on my account. No no no, they exclaimed, with the voice of Satan, we simply must send a technician to your apartment. Will next Wednesday between the hours of inconvenient and never be ok? Next Wednesday? Are you serious? You want me to go without Internet for three days? You must be on crack, you vicious bastards. All I need you to do is change my address. How hard is that? I decided to take this opportunity to change my service to Quest, seeing as how the switching office is right across the street from my new apartment, so I know the connection will be optimal. I went to the website and got all the information, then realized that my new apartment doesn’t have any phone jacks! How the hell am I supposed to get DSL service without any phone jacks? It looks like I’m stuck with Con-Cast for the time being. I hate them so much.
I’ve found that I like my new place a little better each day. It’s quieter at least, and I’ve come to find that I’m not the only white person living there, as I am where I live now. I have nothing against any other people, but come on. Is there only one song that every single Mexican listens to at 197db every day? And how is it that the rims on your hoopty-ride are bigger than the actual tires? And just how many people live in that one-bedroom anyway? Was there a sale on wife beaters last weekend? Not trying to sound racist, but sometimes it’s just too easy. And I wouldn’t say it if it weren’t true.
Anyway, in a couple more days I’ll be moved in, and I can put this old place behind me. Another in the long list of apartments I’ve rented over the years. I won’t miss it.
Now, off to see how loud my stereo can go before I disconnect it!