I have a lot of stuff. And we moved it all. I’d even gotten rid of a lot of it and still there was way too much of it. Mom and dad came in from the airport and then we started moving immediately. I had them move the stuff from the cargo van to the stairwell and then I did all the running up and down the stairs to the second floor. This was made a little difficult as an ingrown toenail began to dig further and further into my big toe (soaking it twice a day now). And it was pretty hot on Tuesday as well.
Plus, mom and dad got to hear me yell and curse at drivers as I drove the van from the old place to the new one. I just have a low tolerance for incompetence. I apologized for the profanity but dad said, ‘No! We want the full Andy experience!’ That was after I’d yelled: ‘Get off the g____ cellphone you stupid f___ing yuppie!’
It was probably one of the calmest visits I’ve ever had with mom and dad. One reason for that is because Ron is more relaxed around them and they are more relaxed around him. They all three went to the Art Institute to see the Seurat exhibit while I worked on Wednesday.
Mom was a cleaning machine. I told her she didn’t have to clean stuff but I think she was mortified that the previous tenants had left the place so messy. Tonight’s Friday night excitement is scrubbing the floors with woodsoap and trying to get the hardwood floors to shine. Ron has already started dreaming up valances. Just the phrase ‘window treatments’ gives me hives. Seems so unmanly.
SBC Amertiech can go to hell. Even though I called to reschedule my DSL to be moved from the 19th to yesterday – evidently the idiot on the phone didn’t make the move in their system. And after each call today they are asking me, “Are you satisfied with your SBC service?” And I want to lash out, “What do you think?!” But I know it is not the fault of the person I’m on the phone with. It’s my fault for not double and triple-checking whether a multi-billion dollar telecom company can flip a single switch without a four week warning. Idiots.
The tenants below may have a soothing habit of having loud music on until 5 AM every night. Yesterday afternoon we got home from lunch and mom and dad had left and the floors were vibrating. Few things drive me to the brink like this. That’s actually a lie – lots of things drive me to the brink like this: double-wide strollers, dog breath, men in capri pants smoking Capri cigarettes driving their Capri convertible to Pizza Capri. I wrestled with ‘being nice’ or just going down there and saying turn it down. I really detest face-to-face conflict – I’d much rather seethe. I’m a crackerjack seether. I tried to be a martyr and just accept the inconsideration but finally marched my ingrown feet downstairs and knocked on the door. Knocked again. No answer. Marched back upstairs, wrote a polite, curt note saying that I work at home and people I was on the phone with were able to hear the noise through the floor and shoved it under the door and then left a message for the landlady. I’m hoping the tenants underneath just didn’t realize that someone had moved in above them and that they are going to be good apartment citizens and keep their goddamn music down below sonic-boom levels. When I first moved to Chicago we got a bunch of frat boys evicted because I would clearly hear Dave Matthews’s entire oeuvre through the floors. Idiots.
Ron is, as others always are, surprised at how affectionate my family is. Big bear hugs upon greeting and parting.
We had an amazing dinner at Yoshi’s a French-Asian fusion restaurant. It was expensive but so so so good. I had barbecued ribs with pork loin and taro mashed potatoes. And then the dessert was a sugar-crusted filo-dough shinto shrine with mousse filling propped up with raspberries and blueberries. So so so so good.
I have realized that everything I own has a powerpack. I think have of the gross weight of my belongings is in powerpacks. Hey industry – why not have standardized powerpacks or smart cords that I can plug into a universal thingy and the cord tells the thingy how much power to send?
The new place only has one outlet that is grounded. I’m going to try and figure out what I have to do to try and get the other outlets to be grounded.
Market Days starts tomorrow. Market Days is like the Pride Parade except it doesn’t move. Halsted becomes a gay internment camp and there is much feasting on funnel cakes and hot dogs – people start their drugs with breakfast and spend the day sunburned and brainburned. I still think it is sort of stupid to charge people money to walk on a public street – you could only get city people to agree to that. Why don’t they just jack up the beer prices, instead?