The Daily Dump

A place where everyone (me) is welcomed to express their opinions openly and honestly. I encourage free thinking, free wheeling, off-the-cuff banter and monetary donations.

Wednesday, May 31

Moving: Episode One

Friday morning I take the train to Long Island to pick up my parents SUV (they hate “the environment”) along with some “boxes,” because in the “planning stages” of my move I considered boxes to be exotic items, specific only to certain regions of Long Island and not to be found in Manhattan. This all falls under the main tenet of my moving philosophy, which was “As soon as I have a car I have everything I need. The entire process after this will be a breeze.”

Over the course of the weekend, I will revise my philosophy to include the same epiphany about “Once all the clothes are packed . . .,” “Once the kitchen is cleaned out . . .,” “Once the washing machine is moved . . .,” and “Once the big furniture is donated . . .,” and so on and so on, all of which illuminates one prevalent theme: my capability for self-deception rivals that of a manic-depressive.

I drive back to Manhattan enjoying the ride, specifically the fact that the solo car ride (a rarity for me) is the last bastion of a man who cannot sing but loves to think he can, because even if someone should happen to overhear your awful rendition of “Rebellion (Lies)” you’re driving at 70mph and the chance he will attempt to mock you is slim, even slimmer when you hold a pistol up against the window. Little did I know, though, that this would be the last enjoyable thing in my life for 48 hours.

Once I get to my apartment, my mood shifts from casual optimism to sheer panic as I pack up the six or so “boxes” I procured on Long Island in a matter of minutes. (FACT: Books seem smaller and lighter when packed neatly in a bookcase.) What ensues is one of the most effed up moving jobs in the history of moving jobs, dating back to the Egyptian pyramids. Pack, transport, unpack, repeat, pack, transport, unpack, repeat – also known as “the most inefficient method of achieving anything.” I’ve seen six year olds on a beach come up with better ways to transport sea shells than this.

After the second trip, I am wasted. I’m walking these boxes down three flights in my building and up to the fifth floor in The Girlfriend’s building. (FACT: Walking up stairs is harder than walking down stairs, unless you are a bear.) As I drive back to my apartment for a third round, the sun is setting, both literally in the sky and figuratively in my soul. As I take the last step of the last trip into The Girlfriend’s apartment that night, I collapse amidst a pile of mess (NOTE: I plan on writing a poem entitled “I Collapse Amidst A Pile Of Mess,” so no one steal it.)

I immediately take off my clothes, at which The Girlfriend seductively growls, “You stink.” I plod towards the shower and even though The Girlfriend’s apartment has negative water pressure (it actually sucks water off you) I don’t think I have ever enjoyed a shower more, except for that time I was seduced by a Russian classmate in college who ended up buying me a beeper. (Her buying me a beeper has nothing to do with her seducing me, but I include it in every reference I ever make to her because I find few things more funny than the fact that a) she bought me a beeper, and b) when I was in college people used beepers.)

After the shower The Girlfriend and I set to work organizing the mess so we could at least get to the important places like bed and the refrigerator. And just as I am about to settle in for the night with a few projects and some prescription pain medication, the buzzer rings. It is a guy from Craigslist who is buying a piece of The Girlfriend’s furniture, a bar with a stainless steel countertop from her kitchen.

Aaaaand SCENE:

Me, shirtless, reckless hair and wily beard as a result of stress and neglect. TG, still hasn’t showered, smelling poorly. I run to put on a shirt before he opens the door. I happen to grab a neon orange t-shirt – the same color t-shirt TG is wearing. Craigslist Guy opens the door to us standing there smiling. He is dressed to the nines as though going directly to a club after taking our table. He did not however factor in the fifth floor walk-up, hence he is dripping sweat. Pleasantries are exchanged and merchandise is inspected. We pick it up here.

Craigslist Guy: “Wow, you two have matching shirts on.”

Me: “Ha, yeah. You know, we like to coordinate.”

TG: (dirty, stressed out, twitching as she feverishly cleans out the drawers of the bar, which she neglected to do before hand) “HA, yeah. No.”

CG: “I don’t know what Craigslist etiquette is, but I only brought a check. I could run to an ATM if you want?”

TG: “I’d prefer cash.”

CG and I set to flipping the table over and unscrewing the legs as the absurdity of the scene reaches Kafkaesque proportions. It is agreed that I will carry the legs, TG will carry the stool and CG will carry the table top, the heaviest part.

CG: “Craigslist is so funny, isn’t it? You walk into people’s homes and buy their furniture.”

Me: “Yeah, and it’s not all weirdos either, you know? I mean you seem normal, and we consider ourselves pretty normal . . .” (FORESHADOWING ALERT)

We walk out the apartment door and begin down the stairs with CG in the lead, me behind him and TG bringing up the rear. I have the four table legs bundled under my arm. No further than five steps down, one of the table legs slips from my grip. In my effort to catch it, I actually bat it through the air towards CG below me.


The table leg, with a heavy steel screw protruding from one end, misses CG’s head by inches, crashing down into a wall below him.


CG: (wide eyed and obviously scared) “Yeah, I’m . . . yeah.”

We continue down the stairs in relative silence and when we reach the street CG goes off to find an ATM.

TG: “He’s not coming back is he.”

Me: “I wouldn’t.”

Several minutes later he returns with cash. We make the transaction and help him hail a cab. The minute the cab pulls away I realize that we forgot to give him the drawers that went along with the unit. TG calls him and he says not to worry, that he will get them at some point in the future. Not unsurprisingly, we still haven’t heard from him.

AND THAT CONCLUDES EPISODE ONE! Stay tuned for Episode Two where, in the midst of everything, we get a family portrait taken!


TG smelled? Girls don't smell.

By Blogger Leezer, at 3:17 PM  

That sounds like quite the fun time. I can't wait to read Episode Two!

BTW, you are so lucky I didn't help with carrying the bar for the CG, because it would definitely hit him in the head. Because stuff like that always happens. Or it would have hit me in the head somehow.

By Blogger FlippingChipmunk, at 3:48 PM  

You have this oddly subtle way of just making an off the cuff statement like "I immediately take off my clothes" which seems to distract me to a point where the rest of your post becomes irrelevant.

By Blogger Carrie Broadshoulders, at 3:49 PM  

You poor, poor man. As someone who helped a friend move this weekend, I feel your pain. Although there were no table legs flying through the air at strangers in this move. Would have made it more interesting though. There was a table though.

By Blogger HelloBettyLou, at 3:51 PM  

This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

By Blogger HelloBettyLou, at 3:52 PM  

Oh and if you think selling things on, or more specifically renting your apartment out on craigslist is oddly normal, you should have been around when the ex boyfriend and I were helping our landlord rent out our apartment since we had broken up, broken our lease and were moving out. People traipsing in and out of your lovely apartment, now the scene of the most wretched time of your life. Not cute. The fog of discontent and anger floating around their heads as they ignore me on the couch sobbing so my roommate can show them our apartment which is now up for rent again. Me in the background yelling, "oh yes, there's the kitchen where we used to cook before that heartless asshole decided to rip my heart out. Isn't it lovely?"

By Blogger Carrie Broadshoulders, at 3:55 PM  

5 flights up? Wow. I mean, dayum.

And you just inspired a new post, brutha. Gracias.

By Blogger Faith, at 4:03 PM  

Isn't it amazing how much crap we accumuliate? You should stuff the drawers with some of it as a sort of "gift with purchase"...that way when he comes back he feels that the second trip was worth while.

Or you could just set them on the curb so he could avoid being pummeled to death with furniture parts.

It's your choice.

By Blogger Jenni, at 4:07 PM  

When I moved out my dorm sophomore year of college I did so using only paper shopping bags. Granted, I was not moving any furniture, but I think my dad was pissed that he had to make roughly 300 trips up to my fourth floor dorm room.

By Blogger Hope, at 4:23 PM  

Excellent post. Moving is awful in every way. I've never done it, but that's what people tell me...

By Anonymous Anonymous, at 4:46 PM  

There's a Sponge Bob episode called, "Nature Pants" where SB abandons all his possessions including his pants to live naked with the jelly fish. Then Patrick misses him and comes to take him home. Why can't humans be more like Sponge Bob?

By Blogger Leezer, at 4:49 PM  

My ex-boyfriend and I threw a dinner party specifically for strangers found on CL. We screened the crap out of them, obviously, and it turned out really great! I recommend it - just make sure you have 2-3 bottles of wine per person. (That may sound like a lot, but it's not, especially when you have 13 strangers in your house.)

By Anonymous Anonymous, at 5:37 PM  

dude, your apt is sooo nice, your old one i mean, i would never have guessed it was a NYC one. you need to post pics of the TG/BI apt so we can compare..and WOAH, did you have a washing machine in your apt? how'd you score that?

By Anonymous Anonymous, at 5:39 PM  

Oh honey, you gave me the best laugh in the past few weeks with this Hell you are/have gone thru!

When we 1st got married we moved 5 times in 5 years between Thanksgiving and Christmas. We never visit anyone during these holidays anymore because it brings back such bad memories!

Death, taxes and moving most emotionally wrenching times in ones life.

By Blogger Shopaholic KitKatWoman, at 6:44 PM  

I love your moving adventures...
I'd love to hear internal monolouge of craigslist guy...

By Blogger djmetronome, at 7:31 PM  

5! Ah, ah, ah!!! 5 times I laughed out loud while reading this post.

(I somehow channeled Sesame Street's "The Count" while composing that comment)

Today's comment was brought to you by the letters A, H, and the number 5.

By Blogger K, at 1:45 AM  

Hilarious! With you on singing loudly, and very off-key in the car.

Hope you and TG are both still alive after the move, and that neither of you inadvertently kills any innocent bystanders.

By Blogger Just, at 8:03 AM  

This should be televised—although the images that run through my head are pretty vivid on their own.

By Blogger ❉ pixie ❉, at 9:00 AM  

You had me in stitches!! :))I hope your unpacking isnt as painful

By Blogger Jasmineflower, at 9:16 AM  

Kafkaesque proportions? It's all coming together now.

Regardless don't feel bad about the table leg. There are worse things. At least you didn't offer him a “Gender Reassignment Surgery Recipient Support Group” pamphlet.

By Blogger Anita, at 10:12 AM  

You should have told him TG was pregnant. Just to really throw him off. Plus, then he could have been amused while TG beat you with the legs you almost killed him wtih.

By Blogger Rebecca, at 1:35 PM  

Am I the only person who can actually picture you singing to the Arcade Fire holding a gun up to the window. I can just picture it now...

By Blogger Julie_Gong, at 2:30 PM  

Okay I love your blog! ANOTHER NEW YORKER YAY! Erm..I think I've been in your apt before?

By Blogger mrsmogul, at 7:39 PM  

i wonder what the experience would have been like if the craigslist guy had a Rapleaf score :)

By Blogger auren, at 4:57 PM  

Post a Comment

Links to this post:


<< Home