the ridiculous circumstances of life
I couldn't pass up the chance to write from this space. I'm sitting my car, parked outside my favorite coffeeshop (the Black Cat on Alberta, for those of you who are curious) leeching off their wireless. Why? Because, at 9pm after the movers moved all my stuff into my new house, I absolutely *had* to run over to check for a message from SK. Why? Because I am completely, wildly, stupidly, crazily, intensely, ridiculously, passionately in love with SK. And because she writes great messages.
So here I sit in my car with my seat pushed as far back as it will go to accomodate my laptop which is resting against the steering wheel, the screen lighting up my face, reflecting in my glasses, startling passers-by and calling attention to my predicament... But what are you gonna do?
The movers were late, but so efficient and cute once they showed up, I didn't care. I pointed everything out that needed moved, then ran off to pick up some Taco Bell for supper and some Pabst for later. Yum. A winning combo that I'm sure I'll appreciate in the morning.
CB made an unwelcome surprise visit in the middle of moving. She just popped in to be an asshole for a minute and insist I remove the bed I had intended to leave for her son to use (since he recently moved in w/o a bed). She doesn't want the bed, so it has to go. She stood in the doorway, said her little bit, and left in a huff while I sat on the couch eating a taco and drinking a beer. I was so happy to be moving out of there I almost laughed while she glared at me, but I managed to keep my composure. My life is so great right now, nothing could phase me.
The movers packed me up so fast I hardly had time to finish my tacos before it was time to go. So we went. I made sure to slam the door extra hard as I shut it for the last time. Fucking stupid closed chapter of my life. Now it's time to work on the anger I'm still feeling. We'll see.
So the movers showed up at my house and unpacked like lightening. Next thing you know, I'm sitting around my new living room, piles of my shit everywhere, drinking Pabst with the movers, trying to figure out if they're hitting on me and deciding if I think they're cute. Little Portland hipsters with a giant van. They were cute enough, but alas, I kicked them out after two beers so I could come to the coffeeshop and read SK's message. Funny. I kicked them out even after they worshipped:
1.) my french motobecane bicycle,
2.) the longbarrelled ruger my dad shot himself with and
3.) the mountain dulcimer I was given as a college graduation present. The dulcimer is, by far, my coolest possession. My Great-Uncle Bob Mize made it, as commissioned by my dad, with wood taken from the barns of both my great-grandfathers. The top is cherry and comes from my grandmother's father's barn, and the back is walnut and comes from my grandfather's father's barn, the barn of my childhood memories and rompings. That dulcimer is fucking awesome. I can play three songs on it, and god bless those little movers, they actually asked me to play something and they listened and appreciated it when I did.
Fuck it's been a great night. Now I'm heading home (home!) to start unpacking and sorting out my shit. I love my life.
So here I sit in my car with my seat pushed as far back as it will go to accomodate my laptop which is resting against the steering wheel, the screen lighting up my face, reflecting in my glasses, startling passers-by and calling attention to my predicament... But what are you gonna do?
The movers were late, but so efficient and cute once they showed up, I didn't care. I pointed everything out that needed moved, then ran off to pick up some Taco Bell for supper and some Pabst for later. Yum. A winning combo that I'm sure I'll appreciate in the morning.
CB made an unwelcome surprise visit in the middle of moving. She just popped in to be an asshole for a minute and insist I remove the bed I had intended to leave for her son to use (since he recently moved in w/o a bed). She doesn't want the bed, so it has to go. She stood in the doorway, said her little bit, and left in a huff while I sat on the couch eating a taco and drinking a beer. I was so happy to be moving out of there I almost laughed while she glared at me, but I managed to keep my composure. My life is so great right now, nothing could phase me.
The movers packed me up so fast I hardly had time to finish my tacos before it was time to go. So we went. I made sure to slam the door extra hard as I shut it for the last time. Fucking stupid closed chapter of my life. Now it's time to work on the anger I'm still feeling. We'll see.
So the movers showed up at my house and unpacked like lightening. Next thing you know, I'm sitting around my new living room, piles of my shit everywhere, drinking Pabst with the movers, trying to figure out if they're hitting on me and deciding if I think they're cute. Little Portland hipsters with a giant van. They were cute enough, but alas, I kicked them out after two beers so I could come to the coffeeshop and read SK's message. Funny. I kicked them out even after they worshipped:
1.) my french motobecane bicycle,
2.) the longbarrelled ruger my dad shot himself with and
3.) the mountain dulcimer I was given as a college graduation present. The dulcimer is, by far, my coolest possession. My Great-Uncle Bob Mize made it, as commissioned by my dad, with wood taken from the barns of both my great-grandfathers. The top is cherry and comes from my grandmother's father's barn, and the back is walnut and comes from my grandfather's father's barn, the barn of my childhood memories and rompings. That dulcimer is fucking awesome. I can play three songs on it, and god bless those little movers, they actually asked me to play something and they listened and appreciated it when I did.
Fuck it's been a great night. Now I'm heading home (home!) to start unpacking and sorting out my shit. I love my life.
posted by reasonably prudent poet at 8:44 PM
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