Monthly Archives: March 2013

Anybody moving? Need any help?

I love helping people move. Every once in a while I’ll write something on Facebook, like, “Anybody moving? You need any help? Call me up!” usually around springtime, when everybody decides to get out, to try life out in a new neighborhood. For a lot of people, nothing’s worse than packing everything they own into boxes, disassembling all of their furniture, and then spending a whole day moving all of those boxes and furniture pieces down several flights of stairs, out onto the sidewalk, into a big truck or a large van, you know where I’m going with this, driving to their new place, unpacking, unmoving, or I guess just moving, but the second part of the move. It’s terrible. It’s a whole day off from work of just unforgiving manual labor.

So yeah, I don’t particularly enjoy it either. But I love volunteering to help people move. Think about it. Everybody needs help moving. And everybody hates it. It’s the one thing in life, the one giant chore that you set out to do, you realize that it’s all but impossible to do alone, and then you go onto craigslist to look into maybe hiring some movers, and then you’re like, Jesus, that’s going to be so much money. I don’t have that kind of cash.

Why do I love moving then? The power. Doing a huge favor like that might seem like a nice gesture on my part, but on the contrary, I’m only doing it to someday hold it over somebody else’s head. And since moving is such a big chore – I’m giving up my weekend here! – I’ll be in a position to hold it over some heads for a long time.

One obvious benefit is that I’ll never have any trouble moving myself. I’ve already helped like ten of my friends move in the past year. So whenever I decide to get a new apartment or change houses, I can call five of them up and still have a five-person favor surplus. And probably more, because if five people show up to help me move, they’re only going to be doing like one fifth of the work that I did when I was the only one to show up to help. Maybe somebody else came, I don’t know. It’s never five people.

But I don’t plan on moving anytime soon. And so I can continuously call on ten people to return small favors for me almost indefinitely. Think about it, I’ll help you move. I’ll spend all day at your old place and then at your new place. When we’re all done, how about we head out to a bar? Maybe you can buy me a beer.

But that’s just the start. Maybe I’ll need some dry cleaning picked up next Friday. Maybe I need someone to hang out at my house while I’m at work to wait for a package to arrive. Maybe I need five bucks. Maybe I want a bite of your sandwich. What are you going to say no? I gave up a whole weekend to help you move. Come on. Hand it over. Just cut it in half.

And the great thing about these small tiny favors, they’re like an almost indefinite supply. Are you really going to tell me after giving me half a sandwich and buying me a drink that we’re even? Ha! Make sure you get extra mayo on the next one, that bite was a little dry.

Even better, if I ever do decide to move, even if I have been calling on you for favors for the past few months, who do you think I’m going to call to help me out? You. And what are you going to say, no? “Sorry Rob, I’m not going to help you out, even though you helped me out, because you’ve been asking a lot of small requests lately.” Nope. I helped you, you help me. And after you’re done setting that last box down over there in the corner, I’ll be like, “Here man, have a beer. Cheers,” clink, “we’re even.”

The absolute best part, and I’m almost reluctant to even admit this here, it’s almost like a trade secret, but when I’m helping you move, I’m going to act like such a spaz. Knocking into stuff. Almost dropping your lamp. Maybe even dropping your lamp, I don’t know. So I’ll be helping you, yeah, but you’re not going to rely on me to do any of the super heavy lifting. And I’m going to be taking it real slow, like, seriously, do you think this is a priority of mine? Making sure this moving job is done like it’s my stuff?

Having said all of this, seriously, hit me up if you need help moving. You’re probably saying to yourself, “Is this guy nuts? After revealing his true intentions for everybody to read, he thinks I’m going to ask him to help me move?” And the answer is, of course you are. Look around your place. Your couch. Your bed. All of that stuff on your shelves. You’re going to tackle all of that by yourself? You’re really going to say no to an extra pair of hands. Of course you won’t. Because moving sucks. And even though we both know you’re going to owe me big, you’re definitely going to call me up.

Very uncomfortable (a long complaint to nobody)

I’m so tired. And cold. If it weren’t so cold I’d probably have fallen asleep already, right here at my computer, just head down on the table asleep in this chair. And if it were warmer, maybe if I had an extra sweater, a scarf, definitely something with a hood, and then I fell asleep, it would be one of those sleeps where I’m too exhausted even to shift positions, and that’s probably also compounded by the fact that, in this chair, at this table, I don’t really have any other positions to shift into, my whole body being kind of weirdly balanced, forehead right on the table, torso slumped over. And everybody knows what happens next: two, three hours passed out like this, something’s going to get cut off, no circulation, no blood. Probably my legs, not just part of my legs, the whole thing. Think about it. I’m slumped over, my legs are kind of tucked under the chair, and so the pinch, the spot where the blood’s not going to be able to flow through, it’s right there, like at my pelvis.

And whatever, I’d get up, both of my legs would be asleep, I’d probably get one of those throbbing headaches from my head having been bent down accumulating blood for so long. And dry mouth. Dry nose. I’d stand up and just be really in a lot of pain, a lot of dry uncirculated discomfort. And I’d get up, try to walk around in circles to get everything back to normal, drinking water, maybe take some Advil, eventually go to bed. But then I’d be laying there for the rest of the night, and even though my legs wouldn’t be hurting anymore, it’s always, you know, you get that sort-of throbbing, that kind-of discomfort which, maybe a normal person could successfully fall asleep to, but all I’m thinking of is: deep vein thrombosis. Blood clots. Peripheral artery disease. Scurvy. Just enough paranoid terror to keep my exhausted body and mind in a state of half sleep, thinking about my legs, about the time, about how I should have had eight hours of sleep tonight, nine even, ten. But now it’d just be eight hours of laying down, twisting in bed, trying to keep myself from freaking out.

But I’m not falling asleep right here, right in this chair, even though I am really tired, I haven’t slept much at all this weekend. It’s because it’s so cold in my house. The chill is keeping me just awake enough to write this long whiney complaint. I spent a few days away and turned down the thermostat before I left. Something happened, I don’t know what really, but the heat wound up shutting off completely, so when I walked in the door it was like, Jesus, it’s f’n cold in here, really cold. So I got the furnace going and started cranking everything up. And there’s hot air coming out of the radiators, so it’s on, but two, two and a half days away? The whole house is like a refrigerator. A giant refrigerator that’s all of the sudden being invaded by really dry furnace heat, pumping out through the walls, making that hissing sound. And everything in the house, having been so cold, now getting heated up so fast, it’s all condensing around me, the glasses and plates getting wet, frosted, like when you take a mug out of the freezer. And it’s the same with the tile floor.

And so yeah it’s really cold, but the air is really hot and dry. Does this make any sense? I’ve since put on a sweater. And another sweatshirt on top of that. I’m wearing a hood now. I’m still freezing. And tired. And now the drastic change in temperature is making my skin itch, it’s going to be one of those nights where, even though I’m not worried about deep vein thrombosis, I’m going to be scratching at my dry skin all night, the same restlessness, the same non-sleep.

I think really I’m just overtired. Tired and complaining. Complaining and cold. And itchy.