raaaar!
So Guy's moved about a block and a half from his old place. His roommate and his roommate's boyfriend, they went and bought a (big)(beautiful)(gorgeous) house (with a library! They have a library! And? And! A blue jay! And a lemon tree. Not that I'm bitter) and Guy decided that The Time Had Come for Him To Have a Room of His Own, Except By "Room" I Mean "Apartment," But Had I Said "Apartment," You Would Have Missed Out on the Funny Virginia Woolf Allusion.
He moved on top of a hill. No, I'm sorry – a Hill. No, wait - A HILL. This is a city of Hills, and this is a Hill that stacks up to all of the other Hills. This is a Hell of a Hill. It's a Hella Hill. It's Hill Hell.
The first time I came to visit, I got off the bus and walked to the bottom of his street and stood looking up the sheer cliff face and I said "Oh, honey. It was very nice to have known you," and then I took a taxi home.
That is not actually the actual truth, as such. What I really did was bitch, and moan, and bitch and bitch and moan and trudge all the way up to the top of the hill, and then down a few more blocks, and then up the stairs into the lobby and up the lobby stairs and then up the stairs in the lobby to the landing and up the stairs to the first floor and then, I died.
Which would be fine, all the dying every time I come to visit him. I will get used to the sobbing and the dying and I will look at it as a Challenge which I will Masterfully Overcome as I begin to become Fit and Healthy and someday you will see me chung up that hill, just like a little fat train.
What was less fine was doing all that with everything he owns in boxes. The boy owns a lot of stuff. A lot of heavy stuff. He collects boulders, and bowling balls, and blocks of gold is what he does. And I moved it all and went raaaargh! And was powerful and tough.
Then, I moved another friend and her new live-in lover to their beautiful little one-bedroom Love Nest, which also involved a lot of heavy shit. What the fuck is up with people owning heavy shit? Wasn't there a run on inflatable furniture a few years back? My god. But I helped move bookcases and beds and tables and more tables and chairs and boxes, and I went "raaaaar!" and I was very powerful and tough.
And there is a final person to move, this afternoon, and this is a sad move instead of a happy move and I wish I could do something more than lift things for her (and you know, I bet they're heavy things). But lifting things is something I can do, and then go "raaaar!" and then be all powerful and tough.
But I am very, very, very, very tired. That sentence would be totally one hundred percent a reflection of me if it had a paragraph more full of "very." It is nice to see that I am capable of being raaaaar! and strong and accomplishing stuff. It makes me feel a little less hopeless, a little more hope-full, and also really fucking tired.
But I think tonight, after the move, all I will be capable of is going to be watching Invader Zim on DVD (aw, I want to watch the scary monkey show!). Hooray!
He moved on top of a hill. No, I'm sorry – a Hill. No, wait - A HILL. This is a city of Hills, and this is a Hill that stacks up to all of the other Hills. This is a Hell of a Hill. It's a Hella Hill. It's Hill Hell.
The first time I came to visit, I got off the bus and walked to the bottom of his street and stood looking up the sheer cliff face and I said "Oh, honey. It was very nice to have known you," and then I took a taxi home.
That is not actually the actual truth, as such. What I really did was bitch, and moan, and bitch and bitch and moan and trudge all the way up to the top of the hill, and then down a few more blocks, and then up the stairs into the lobby and up the lobby stairs and then up the stairs in the lobby to the landing and up the stairs to the first floor and then, I died.
Which would be fine, all the dying every time I come to visit him. I will get used to the sobbing and the dying and I will look at it as a Challenge which I will Masterfully Overcome as I begin to become Fit and Healthy and someday you will see me chung up that hill, just like a little fat train.
What was less fine was doing all that with everything he owns in boxes. The boy owns a lot of stuff. A lot of heavy stuff. He collects boulders, and bowling balls, and blocks of gold is what he does. And I moved it all and went raaaargh! And was powerful and tough.
Then, I moved another friend and her new live-in lover to their beautiful little one-bedroom Love Nest, which also involved a lot of heavy shit. What the fuck is up with people owning heavy shit? Wasn't there a run on inflatable furniture a few years back? My god. But I helped move bookcases and beds and tables and more tables and chairs and boxes, and I went "raaaaar!" and I was very powerful and tough.
And there is a final person to move, this afternoon, and this is a sad move instead of a happy move and I wish I could do something more than lift things for her (and you know, I bet they're heavy things). But lifting things is something I can do, and then go "raaaar!" and then be all powerful and tough.
But I am very, very, very, very tired. That sentence would be totally one hundred percent a reflection of me if it had a paragraph more full of "very." It is nice to see that I am capable of being raaaaar! and strong and accomplishing stuff. It makes me feel a little less hopeless, a little more hope-full, and also really fucking tired.
But I think tonight, after the move, all I will be capable of is going to be watching Invader Zim on DVD (aw, I want to watch the scary monkey show!). Hooray!
This entry was posted by anne, on
Thursday, March 03, 2005.
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"Raaar!" is right!! Think of all those calories you burned by being so darn helpful :) And I bet you'll be conquering that Hill soon enough...can't leave that man alone too often!
I love the Scary Monkey Show!
Glad to know I'm not the only one whose sole exercise has been moving. Or, as I was the one moving; packing, then moving, then unpacking, all the time wondering why I bought such HEAVY books!
But like Ms Gigglepuss said, dem's lots of calories. Really, I fitday.com'd it.
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