Sunday, August 24, 2008

The Great Purge, Part 1

Yesterday we had Ed from the United moving company come over at 10:30 to check out our stuff and evaluate how much it'll cost The Corporation to move everything. Ed was a kindly, well-mannered gentleman of about 6’11”. When I let him in the building, I extended a hand and said, “Thanks for coming by on a Saturday.” Ed enveloped my hand with his flipper and, with a huge grin, responded, “Thanks for having me!” Yep. We’re still in Chicago, alright.

Ed ducked his way around our apartment, rummaging through our underpants drawers and typing descriptions of our belongings into a little blackberry-looking device, which he referred to as his “special computer”. The inventory didn’t take much longer than about 20 minutes, at the end of which he warned us that the efficiency of the packers could be a little freakish. “Just make sure you get out of the way when they get going. And don’t leave anything out that you don’t want packed. Wallet, keys, garbage, anything.” Garbage? They’ll wrap our garbage? I might have to leave a couple banana peels and a fish carcass on the counter, just to see what they look like gingerly taped up in bubble-wrap.

After Ed lumbered out the door, we decided to start purging some of our crap. So Crissy and I loaded all of our most embarrassing books into the granny cart and wheeled them down to Myopic, the ultra-hipster bookstore where they buy and sell used books with an appropriately surly attitude. Naturally, on our way there, I snagged the granny cart on a jutting building edifice, spilling books all over the sidewalk. Books with titles like “Diary of a Manhattan Call Girl,” and “The Engaged Groom: You’re Getting Married!” We scrambled to get them back in the cart, face down.

Since it was the first 8,000 degree day we’ve had all summer, I was already sweating like a baboon with a glandular problem, a condition only worsened by the prospect of the surly hipsters rummaging through our supremely uncool books...riveting page-turners with titles like, “How to Be Like Mike: Life Lessons From Basketball’s Best,” and “First in Thirst: How Gatorade Turned the Science of Sweat into a Cultural Phenomenon.”

Ultimately, we did manage to sell a few books, netting us $43. We were ecstatic. Mostly because we were able to get out of there before the hipster stinkeyes we were getting reduced us to ashes. It was a good day. So good, in fact, that I had to come home and take a 5-hour nap.

Now I’m sitting around the apartment while Crissy’s back at Christine’s parent’s pool in the burbs, sipping seabreezes. Which means it’s my responsibility to try to sell all of our most embarrassing clothes to the female hipsters down the street. And I'm not gonna lie. Just the thought of splaying my T.J. Maxx ties out on the counter is making my butt sweat.

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