You wouldn’t believe it. Last week I somehow pulled myself out of reality (hence my absence from writing). Where did you go, some might ask. Well, it was the world of moving that I went into. And my god, that was a long visit, and I hope I won’t have to visit that little realm again for quite some time.
I will save you the details on the hell I went through, especially it being a one-man show for most of the week (my housemates had already moved out by the time I arrived back from DC). But I will focus on the weekend after my return from the capital.
So, I returned from DC a week ago Thursday and came home to an empty house… literally. There wasn’t much left except for my belongings (and secretly some stuff left by my other housemate). Friday I went to work and was suffering from jet lag and overall exhaustion. I went home and began to pack what I could. I received a notice that my landlord wanted to have the carpets cleaned Monday at some point, which meant that I had to have my items out by the end of the weekend. I realized that I had to at least get my large items (bookcase, couch, desk, etc.) out; my smaller things could just be boxed up and placed in my car or the garage. Come Saturday, I came to the realization that I would need to obtain a truck of some kind.
When I was in college, I felt that I knew many individuals that owned a truck. However, times have changed and now I don’t know anyone personally that has one. Saturday morning I got on the phone with the local rental services: Enterprise, Hertz, and Budget. I struck out with Enterprise and Budget since they closed by 2pm that day and were closed on Sundays (and they didn’t have any trucks at the given moment). Budget had trucks but they were reserved (and that didn’t help me). Then I thought of my grandpa because he has a truck. The only catch is that he and the rest of my family live in Sacramento. I called him and told him the situation. He said it was fine but the only catch was that he and my grandmother were leaving for a wedding anniversary party at 3:30pm. At that point it was barely 11am. I told them I would hit the road right now!
I made it to Sacramento at about 2pm or so and stepped in to chat it up with my grandparents. I felt that I couldn’t just grab the keys from them and dash. I was there for maybe a half an hour before they kicked me out.
I love my grandparents to pieces; they have helped me out in various times of my life but there’s a catch to all of this. They sometimes do things that will either drive you crazy or will simply amuse you. The conversation I had was more on the amusing side.
Aside from the usual “what’s going on in your life right now” conversation one would have with somebody, my grandparents tread into two topics with me. They either want to know how I’m coming along with graduate school and having a girlfriend. I call these the “g-spots.” They tend to switch up these topics where one conversation will be about graduate school and then the next time I talk to them will be about a girlfriend. Well, this visit revolved around the ladder.
“So, Peter, are you engaged these days?” my grandpa asked me this absurd question. I was slightly perplexed. Usually there’s a whole preamble that leads to an engagement; there are certain requirements to have an engagement happen like being in an actual relationship. You don’t get engaged like it’s buying a house. There’s work involved. Plus, the attachment of “these days” made it sound so topical. These days is usually used to follow such questions as “where are you working…” or “where are you living…” but “are you engaged these days” just left me a bit confused,
“Uh…no, I am not engaged these days.” After my response, my grandma did her part for the conversation.
“What was the name of that girl you dated in high school?” I just rolled my eyes when I heard this. We have had this conversation (at least three times now), but, nonetheless, I said her name “oh yeah. What’s she doing these days?”
“She’s going to grad school at UC Davis.”
“Oooh! Grad school? How come you didn’t go to grad school with her?” look how sly my grandma is. She managed to combine both g-spots into the same conversation.
“Well, she’s doing her thesis on health and nutrition of minorities in California. And I don’t really know anything about that.”
“I see. She was really cute. Have you talked to at all her these days?”
“No.” Actually that’s a lie; I bailed out on a visit from her back in late June.
“Is she dating anyone now?”
“Um… I don’t know.” Eventually the conversation digressed elsewhere. I later talked about moving and how when I get back to Santa Cruz I will need to find someone to help me move my large items. My grandpa chimed in at this point.
“You should get a pretty girl to help you move!”
“Why would I need a pretty girl to help me move? All I need is someone who has legs, hands, a pulse, and maybe a mouth.”
“Oh, I don’t know. It would make the move more fun.”
“Well, I’ll see what I can do.” I left shortly after that.
I got back on the road and hauled ass to Santa Cruz. When I arrived, it was already the early evening. I began calling people to see who could help me move. I wasn’t experiencing the best of luck since it was Saturday evening and apparently people have lives. Most people were either out of town, already committed to something, or just didn’t pick up. Since I had the truck I went ahead and started moving my smaller items to the new place. I also managed to get my full size bed moved out by myself. I eventually called it a night.
Sunday morning arrived and I knew that day was the day that I had to get my stuff out. Monday was the carpet cleaning day. So, I went through the phone list again and see who could help. Still no response. In the meantime, I did what I could. I had my long couch that I was going to give to my friends Ryan and Ben, who live in Sacramento. This operation made sense since I had to take the truck back to Sac, I would swing by their apartment and drop off the couch as well. With the couch, I thought I would be able to move the couch out of the house by myself. I slid it out of the living room and got it down the stairwell, but when it came to the doorway, it became not so maneuverable. The ceiling was at an angle and therefore the couch wouldn’t budge when I tried flipping vertically. It’s hard to describe the operation but lets say it just simply did not work. All I could think was that we got the couch upstairs. But how?
Knowing that I had other stuff to move, I had to get the couch out of the entryway and back up the stairs. This became a major problem. Due to gravity, the couch really wanted to go back to the entryway. I tried pulling the couch up, and it would somehow start slipping down the steps. I would then pull it back up and try to get it at a resting stop so I could flip it vertically and therefore move it back in the living room, but it would still slip down. I felt like Sisyphus (from Greek mythology) who had to push the rock up the hill in the underworld but by the time he would get it to the top, it would slide back down and he would do this over and over for eternity. At one point, I had my back against the couch (to prevent it from sliding) and I was on the phone calling people asking for their help with the couch. No such luck was provided. Long story short, I got the couch up eventually and made some goodwill runs.
I tried round two with the calling people for help moving, but this time I tried my friends in the bay area. No responses for a while, but then my friend Yumiko picked up. She agreed but then followed it with:
“But I don’t have my car.”
“…I’ll pick you up.” Much hesitation but I needed to get someone to help. I drove like a madman over highway 17 and made it to her place in just under an hour. She lives in Oakland. We got back to Santa Cruz and we were pros at moving my desk and bookcase out. I bought her lunch and then we did the couch. I will save you the details on how we got it out, but it truly was a two-person job. The truck was loaded with rope and bungee cords, so the couch was going nowhere.
Yumiko volunteered to come along with me to Sacramento (the second trip in 24 hours), so it was nice to have someone to talk to. We met up with Ryan and Ben first, obviously, so we could get rid of the couch. We then got dinner with them and then we trekked over to my grandparents’ house. On the way over, I told Yumiko the conversation I had with my grandparents and especially the part about having a pretty girl help me move. Yumiko mentioned that it was a good thing I brought her along so I could please them. We arrived with the truck and went inside. I introduced Yumiko to the grandparents and I could just see them light up. We had a brief conversation but it was already after 9pm and I still had to get Yumiko back to Oakland and myself to Santa Cruz. We left and my grandma followed us out.
“Goodbye Peter, come back again so we talk some more, and be sure to bring your lady friend too.” Both Yumiko and I just laughed at that “Yumiko, be sure to keep my boy safe!”
We all got home safely. I was incredibly happy to get the larger things out of my house, and I was grateful for having Yumiko help me. I thought it was funny that we ended up spending almost seven hours in a vehicle together, so there was a lot of talking. I spoke with my grandparents later in the week and they kept asking me about Yumiko.
“So, did you and your lady friend make it back safely?”
“That was nice of your lady friend to help you with moving.”
I figured that they couldn’t remember her name and, at the same time, they convinced themselves that Yumiko was my “lady friend,” although I never introduced her in that way. But knowing my grandparents, they’re convinced and are probably spreading rumors. This will benefit them since they sometimes go into the other g-spot topic about me: is he gay? That topic, I’ve heard through the grapevine, comes up every once in a while, but of course, never to me.
I will save you the details on the hell I went through, especially it being a one-man show for most of the week (my housemates had already moved out by the time I arrived back from DC). But I will focus on the weekend after my return from the capital.
So, I returned from DC a week ago Thursday and came home to an empty house… literally. There wasn’t much left except for my belongings (and secretly some stuff left by my other housemate). Friday I went to work and was suffering from jet lag and overall exhaustion. I went home and began to pack what I could. I received a notice that my landlord wanted to have the carpets cleaned Monday at some point, which meant that I had to have my items out by the end of the weekend. I realized that I had to at least get my large items (bookcase, couch, desk, etc.) out; my smaller things could just be boxed up and placed in my car or the garage. Come Saturday, I came to the realization that I would need to obtain a truck of some kind.
When I was in college, I felt that I knew many individuals that owned a truck. However, times have changed and now I don’t know anyone personally that has one. Saturday morning I got on the phone with the local rental services: Enterprise, Hertz, and Budget. I struck out with Enterprise and Budget since they closed by 2pm that day and were closed on Sundays (and they didn’t have any trucks at the given moment). Budget had trucks but they were reserved (and that didn’t help me). Then I thought of my grandpa because he has a truck. The only catch is that he and the rest of my family live in Sacramento. I called him and told him the situation. He said it was fine but the only catch was that he and my grandmother were leaving for a wedding anniversary party at 3:30pm. At that point it was barely 11am. I told them I would hit the road right now!
I made it to Sacramento at about 2pm or so and stepped in to chat it up with my grandparents. I felt that I couldn’t just grab the keys from them and dash. I was there for maybe a half an hour before they kicked me out.
I love my grandparents to pieces; they have helped me out in various times of my life but there’s a catch to all of this. They sometimes do things that will either drive you crazy or will simply amuse you. The conversation I had was more on the amusing side.
Aside from the usual “what’s going on in your life right now” conversation one would have with somebody, my grandparents tread into two topics with me. They either want to know how I’m coming along with graduate school and having a girlfriend. I call these the “g-spots.” They tend to switch up these topics where one conversation will be about graduate school and then the next time I talk to them will be about a girlfriend. Well, this visit revolved around the ladder.
“So, Peter, are you engaged these days?” my grandpa asked me this absurd question. I was slightly perplexed. Usually there’s a whole preamble that leads to an engagement; there are certain requirements to have an engagement happen like being in an actual relationship. You don’t get engaged like it’s buying a house. There’s work involved. Plus, the attachment of “these days” made it sound so topical. These days is usually used to follow such questions as “where are you working…” or “where are you living…” but “are you engaged these days” just left me a bit confused,
“Uh…no, I am not engaged these days.” After my response, my grandma did her part for the conversation.
“What was the name of that girl you dated in high school?” I just rolled my eyes when I heard this. We have had this conversation (at least three times now), but, nonetheless, I said her name “oh yeah. What’s she doing these days?”
“She’s going to grad school at UC Davis.”
“Oooh! Grad school? How come you didn’t go to grad school with her?” look how sly my grandma is. She managed to combine both g-spots into the same conversation.
“Well, she’s doing her thesis on health and nutrition of minorities in California. And I don’t really know anything about that.”
“I see. She was really cute. Have you talked to at all her these days?”
“No.” Actually that’s a lie; I bailed out on a visit from her back in late June.
“Is she dating anyone now?”
“Um… I don’t know.” Eventually the conversation digressed elsewhere. I later talked about moving and how when I get back to Santa Cruz I will need to find someone to help me move my large items. My grandpa chimed in at this point.
“You should get a pretty girl to help you move!”
“Why would I need a pretty girl to help me move? All I need is someone who has legs, hands, a pulse, and maybe a mouth.”
“Oh, I don’t know. It would make the move more fun.”
“Well, I’ll see what I can do.” I left shortly after that.
I got back on the road and hauled ass to Santa Cruz. When I arrived, it was already the early evening. I began calling people to see who could help me move. I wasn’t experiencing the best of luck since it was Saturday evening and apparently people have lives. Most people were either out of town, already committed to something, or just didn’t pick up. Since I had the truck I went ahead and started moving my smaller items to the new place. I also managed to get my full size bed moved out by myself. I eventually called it a night.
Sunday morning arrived and I knew that day was the day that I had to get my stuff out. Monday was the carpet cleaning day. So, I went through the phone list again and see who could help. Still no response. In the meantime, I did what I could. I had my long couch that I was going to give to my friends Ryan and Ben, who live in Sacramento. This operation made sense since I had to take the truck back to Sac, I would swing by their apartment and drop off the couch as well. With the couch, I thought I would be able to move the couch out of the house by myself. I slid it out of the living room and got it down the stairwell, but when it came to the doorway, it became not so maneuverable. The ceiling was at an angle and therefore the couch wouldn’t budge when I tried flipping vertically. It’s hard to describe the operation but lets say it just simply did not work. All I could think was that we got the couch upstairs. But how?
Knowing that I had other stuff to move, I had to get the couch out of the entryway and back up the stairs. This became a major problem. Due to gravity, the couch really wanted to go back to the entryway. I tried pulling the couch up, and it would somehow start slipping down the steps. I would then pull it back up and try to get it at a resting stop so I could flip it vertically and therefore move it back in the living room, but it would still slip down. I felt like Sisyphus (from Greek mythology) who had to push the rock up the hill in the underworld but by the time he would get it to the top, it would slide back down and he would do this over and over for eternity. At one point, I had my back against the couch (to prevent it from sliding) and I was on the phone calling people asking for their help with the couch. No such luck was provided. Long story short, I got the couch up eventually and made some goodwill runs.
I tried round two with the calling people for help moving, but this time I tried my friends in the bay area. No responses for a while, but then my friend Yumiko picked up. She agreed but then followed it with:
“But I don’t have my car.”
“…I’ll pick you up.” Much hesitation but I needed to get someone to help. I drove like a madman over highway 17 and made it to her place in just under an hour. She lives in Oakland. We got back to Santa Cruz and we were pros at moving my desk and bookcase out. I bought her lunch and then we did the couch. I will save you the details on how we got it out, but it truly was a two-person job. The truck was loaded with rope and bungee cords, so the couch was going nowhere.
Yumiko volunteered to come along with me to Sacramento (the second trip in 24 hours), so it was nice to have someone to talk to. We met up with Ryan and Ben first, obviously, so we could get rid of the couch. We then got dinner with them and then we trekked over to my grandparents’ house. On the way over, I told Yumiko the conversation I had with my grandparents and especially the part about having a pretty girl help me move. Yumiko mentioned that it was a good thing I brought her along so I could please them. We arrived with the truck and went inside. I introduced Yumiko to the grandparents and I could just see them light up. We had a brief conversation but it was already after 9pm and I still had to get Yumiko back to Oakland and myself to Santa Cruz. We left and my grandma followed us out.
“Goodbye Peter, come back again so we talk some more, and be sure to bring your lady friend too.” Both Yumiko and I just laughed at that “Yumiko, be sure to keep my boy safe!”
We all got home safely. I was incredibly happy to get the larger things out of my house, and I was grateful for having Yumiko help me. I thought it was funny that we ended up spending almost seven hours in a vehicle together, so there was a lot of talking. I spoke with my grandparents later in the week and they kept asking me about Yumiko.
“So, did you and your lady friend make it back safely?”
“That was nice of your lady friend to help you with moving.”
I figured that they couldn’t remember her name and, at the same time, they convinced themselves that Yumiko was my “lady friend,” although I never introduced her in that way. But knowing my grandparents, they’re convinced and are probably spreading rumors. This will benefit them since they sometimes go into the other g-spot topic about me: is he gay? That topic, I’ve heard through the grapevine, comes up every once in a while, but of course, never to me.
5 comments:
And people wonder why the elderly get abused.
I love the bit about getting a pretty girl to help you move, it makes me think of the scene in the 40 Year Old Virgin where Seth Rogen explains to Paul Rudd on why he hired the new girl who can't even lift an iPod, our grandparents want you to get laid...crazy old people. Secretly, I yearn to have a life in hopes that one day they'll ask me questions like those.
Oh honey I totally blew it didn't I??? I was totally that person you called with your back against the couch, and I did not answer.
Mea mofo culpa, my friend. I am truly sorry.
Truth was, I don't think I'd have been of much help anyway, other than being a pretty girl. I can really only lift with one arm due to the work-induced RSI in the other.
And my better half, who does the heavy lifting around here, had at least an hour and a half more of snoozing to do that morning.
This was my thinking. Apparently it was wrong. I should've woken his ass up! But I'm glad you survived, and again... I am sorry to have bailed on you!
Hope you don't hate me. ;0)
-Z
Oh, Zoe, I could never hate you. I was just in desperate times.
Rev BS, give it time, they will ask you, but in the meantime, they will continue the questions revolving around a driver's license :)
Dude, never contradict your grandparents! When they ask about your "lady friend" say we still see each other once in a while, and leave it at that. Or when they ask more questions about that, say, You Know.
They will go crazy.
You music has been successfully integrated into my Library. You rock
P-dilly
Moving SUCKS. My last move involved a couch debacle as well. My dad and my sister and I had to hoist it over my balcony from the parking lot in the back of the building. Good times.
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