The first of three spirit movers has visited me to remind me of the meaning of Christmas …
I mean, uh, the first of three sets of movers has begun cleaning out the Best One-bedroom Deal in D.C. Today was the smallest shipment, stuff that will get flown to Tokyo (allegedly to arrive there sooner). Three mover dudes wrapped, packed and loaded 350 pounds into a crate on a truck in one hour. Kinda freaky.
I studied them well. Here’s the plan for a fast, effective move:
- Movers arrive a little late.
- Mover #1 assures Sid that he is within the weight guidelines and orders the boxes brought up.
- Mover #2 asks to use the bathroom, pees, then gets the boxes.
- Mover #3 shows up with packing materials.
- Mover #1 and #2 start packing.
- Mover #3 asks to use the bathroom, then returns and heads to the kitchen.
- Sid smells something horrible in the kitchen, then quickly realizes it isn’t coming from the kitchen, so he pretends to go check on something in the bedroom, then stops by the bathroom to turn on the fan.
- Mover #3 packs designated kitchen stuff in about 15 minutes.
- Movers #1 & #2 engage in wacky banter about who can kick whose ass.
- Mover #2 and Sid throw out some “Scarface” lines.
- Sid signs a bunch of shit.
- Movers leave.
- Annoying-ass lady in a minivan honks nonstop at movers because they turned their truck around in the street.
I’m almost afraid to ask how much you were paying in rent. If it was less than $1000 a month with utilities included – I hate you.
And has it been rented out yet?
Way less than $1,000 a month … pshaw. No utilities, though the only one I pay is electric, and the highest bill I ever had in five years was $36.
Did I mention the hardwood floors, the fireplace and the three-block walk to a Metro stop? (Bonus for you women folk … lots of buff Marines running around these parts … or, if you’re not into boys, there’s also a fine lesbian dance club just around the corner.)