OHMYGODINTERNET
It's been a long week plus. I am now in my new condo. Miscellaneous thoughts on the move:
(1) Being perhaps overly solicitous of my dad's bad back, I tried to prevent him from picking up anything which weighed more than ten pounds. I failed, but managed to keep most of the heavy stuff to myself. This was on Saturday. On Sunday I was sore in ways I cannot recall ever having been. No specific muscle group, just my entire body. Not the intense, deep soreness of having worked muscles which long went unworked, and nowhere near the refreshing exhilaration I get along with the exhaustion of a good weight-training workout (when I'm weight training, which I haven't in several months). I just felt like I got beaten. By, apparently, heavy boxes.
(2) Three years' worth of spare change weighs something like twenty pounds.
(3) Various women assisting my father and I in the selection of goods for the apartment have been, lets say, overly solicitous of my masculinity. I don't mean overly solicitous of my masculinity in the way I might wish, e.g., certain employees of Restoration Hardware had been. I mean assuring me, when I express distaste for a particular item, that it's "not too feminine," or pointing out a duvet while saying "I think it's nice. It looks masculine." (For the record, it looks taupe.) I eventually asked my father if I gave off insecure-about-my-sexuality vibes; he said that in his experience women tried to be generally sensitive and solicitous of single men my age and pointed out that his girlfriend has no hesitation in pointing out something pink and frilly and telling him it'd go well in his bedroom.
(4) My dad doesn't like to refer to his girlfriend as his girlfriend.
(5) I am capable of being polite after venting to a customer service lady about how in the last 24 hours I'd been misdirected and transferred and for all intents and purposes lied to numerous times by numerous agents of her employer, my putative phone/internet provider, even after the latest transfer (to the very helpful lady) had me waiting on the phone for half an hour. I did not tell her that for this half hour I was made to listen to the same 2:30 of, I'm guessing, a Haydn quartet, over and over, with a really jarring and obvious break in the loop. I don't think this was meant to test my willingness to stay on the line. I think it was meant to test my dignity as a human being.
(6) The apartment currently has a bed (mine), a mattress (my father's, bed on the way) and a couch. We are in dire need of tables or, at the least, trays.
There's other stuff, maybe a little more substantive, but I spent a total of 90 minutes on the phone with AT&T and I am fucking starving and pretty tired and worked until 7:30 and I'm running out of steam.
(1) Being perhaps overly solicitous of my dad's bad back, I tried to prevent him from picking up anything which weighed more than ten pounds. I failed, but managed to keep most of the heavy stuff to myself. This was on Saturday. On Sunday I was sore in ways I cannot recall ever having been. No specific muscle group, just my entire body. Not the intense, deep soreness of having worked muscles which long went unworked, and nowhere near the refreshing exhilaration I get along with the exhaustion of a good weight-training workout (when I'm weight training, which I haven't in several months). I just felt like I got beaten. By, apparently, heavy boxes.
(2) Three years' worth of spare change weighs something like twenty pounds.
(3) Various women assisting my father and I in the selection of goods for the apartment have been, lets say, overly solicitous of my masculinity. I don't mean overly solicitous of my masculinity in the way I might wish, e.g., certain employees of Restoration Hardware had been. I mean assuring me, when I express distaste for a particular item, that it's "not too feminine," or pointing out a duvet while saying "I think it's nice. It looks masculine." (For the record, it looks taupe.) I eventually asked my father if I gave off insecure-about-my-sexuality vibes; he said that in his experience women tried to be generally sensitive and solicitous of single men my age and pointed out that his girlfriend has no hesitation in pointing out something pink and frilly and telling him it'd go well in his bedroom.
(4) My dad doesn't like to refer to his girlfriend as his girlfriend.
(5) I am capable of being polite after venting to a customer service lady about how in the last 24 hours I'd been misdirected and transferred and for all intents and purposes lied to numerous times by numerous agents of her employer, my putative phone/internet provider, even after the latest transfer (to the very helpful lady) had me waiting on the phone for half an hour. I did not tell her that for this half hour I was made to listen to the same 2:30 of, I'm guessing, a Haydn quartet, over and over, with a really jarring and obvious break in the loop. I don't think this was meant to test my willingness to stay on the line. I think it was meant to test my dignity as a human being.
(6) The apartment currently has a bed (mine), a mattress (my father's, bed on the way) and a couch. We are in dire need of tables or, at the least, trays.
There's other stuff, maybe a little more substantive, but I spent a total of 90 minutes on the phone with AT&T and I am fucking starving and pretty tired and worked until 7:30 and I'm running out of steam.
Labels: Personal
posted by medrawt at
21:41
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