let’s give ’em something to talk about

Yesterday was moving day.  My children had been sharing an apartment near their university for a year, and it was time to excavate a years worth of shit and prepare for the road ahead.  The Boy has a new place nearby, as he’ll be continuing in school.  The Girl is consolidating her belongings and moving back in with me as she continues her job search.

i hate moving.  With every ounce of my soul.  Since neither of them are old enough to rent an appropriate vehicle, and we don’t know anyone with a big truck*, my primary function was to be renting the truck.  The Boy arranged to have some of his friends help with the heavy lifting, and The Girl had a friend pitch in as well.

i was still concerned that i might actually have to lift something we would be short handed. 

daisyfae:  Have you told your dad when you’re moving?  He could come down to help…

The Girl: [cringes]

The Boy: No.  He’d bring R**.  She’s a bitch.

daisyfae:  Yeah, but she’d help move shit.  If for no other reason, to make me look lazy.

The Boy:  Mom, no offense, but you’re pretty crazy.  But R?  She’s fucking insane. 

daisyfae:  C’mon.  i can use the blog-fodder.

The Boy:  You want something to blog about?  How about I just go take a shit on your living room rug.  The dog will eat it, and you’ll have plenty of blog material***. 


* Huge downside to hangin’ with theater people.  They drive Yugos and Ford Festivas.  The ones with cash?  Bunch of eco-weenies with hybrids that are smaller than my dog. 

** R is my ex-husbands live-in girlfriend.  She helped with moving last year.  She was helpful, but creepy.  i gave her points for showing up… and left town so the kids could have a nice dinner with the ex and R.  Apparently?  She really hates me, and it was an uncomfortable dinner…

*** hey.  lookit that.  found a post in it anyway!