Today I offer a short photo essay regarding the object that
wrecked my life made the big move possible: Ye olde moving truck.
Even the selection of the truck was a source of consternation. The U-Haul website said that the 24′ truck was for a “3 – 4 bedroom home.” That’s a verbatim quote. Since we had a three bedroom home, my wife thought this was a logical selection.
Yet, there I was, like Oliver again, somehow wanting more.
When you stop to think about it, moving is taking yourself and all of your stuff to a new address.
–Tom B. Taker, philosopher
The biggest truck you could get was the 26′ truck which was billed for “4+ bedrooms.” I wanted that truck. Like I explained to my wife, loading always takes longer than unloading and a bit of extra breathing room would allow us to avoid a real life game of Tetris with our precious belongings. Besides, I reasoned, the larger truck was only 10% more cost, about $265 vs. $240.
FYI: The loading to unloading ratio was about 10:1. Every 10 hours of loading time required about one hour to offload. I know because I was there with a stopwatch yelling, “Eureka!”
In the end we went with the larger truck and guess what? And guess what? Our humble three bedroom abode didn’t fit. We had to leave shit behind and strap my Trek mountain bike to the hood of my wife’s car. And, this was my wife’s brilliant idea, the cat’s litter box had to ride in the cab of the truck with me. I shit you not! (The poop tag requirements for this post have now been satisfied.)
We are owned by our precious possessions, but that’s another story.
Keep on truckin’!
About 1/3 loaded. Tetris blocks are beginning to confound.
In the photo below we see the fully loaded masterpiece. Note: This is before we crammed in everything we had filling in every nook and cranny more than a Thomas’ english muffin.
This photo documents one of the happiest moments of my life. Virginal status has been restored.
Oh, and the good news? My memory ain’t what it used to be. So I’ve forgotten about 99.99% of the laments I wished to document in this post. That’s good news for you, the loyal reader.
These are the facts as we know them right now. On or about Thursday, June 13th, a 26′ foot U-Haul truck rolled over my existence. The next four days of my life were consumed by dreams of said truck, with visions of boxes filling my head. Morning, noon and nights whiled away whilst moving boxes in and out of The Great Truck.
That’s about all I remember, really. The Tom B. Taker y’all knew is dead. He’s been replaced by this empty nutshell.
Oh, one other thing. The process of unloading our precious possessions (my precious!) into our new home necessitated the reality that doors remained open for convenience. The doors gaped wide open for two days straight. During this time, the local flora and fauna made use of the opportunity to move in with us. They made themselves right at home. Really, though, it was mainly flies with a few spider mascots thrown in for good measure.
Sunday, after returning the abomination of a U-Haul truck, I dragged my broken body through that portal into the new dimension. As the portal closed behind me, I gravely regarded the gathered throng of flies.
I collapsed into the assembled legions of my follows and they caught me and I was lifted up by millions of furiously beating little wings. “Daddy’s home,” I bellowed. “What the fuck is this? Amityville?” The flies parted and the walls began to gushing blood and they bowed to their new Lord…
Oh, beloved Musca Domestica! At least when humans are forced to turn to insects for survival I’ll already have my very own ready-to-go meal.
Luckily, like I indicated earlier, that’s about all I remember, so the story ends here. Hallelujah!
There are two great mysteries in the life that one must unravel before traveling to the Great Beyond. One is the nature of the Bermuda Triangle. The other is, of course, how gerbils cause household items to go missing from the space-time continuum.
Today we uncover a disturbing piece of evidence that goes a long way towards explaining what really happens. I took the following raw footage at great risk of life and limb.
If you’re not willing to invest one minute and 44 seconds of your precious existence in the following ode to cinema, then I guess you really do hate my guts.
Hang on tight and be prepared for the twist at the end. “I see gerbil people!!!”
Change of Address
I live on the surface of a rotating planetoid. The speed of rotation is approx. 1,000 miles per hour.
Meanwhile, the planet itself is moving about 67,000 miles per hour around the sun.
The sun is the center of our solar system, which is also moving around the center of our galaxy at approx. 490,000 miles per hour.
The galaxy is moving towards something called the Great Attractor, appox. 150 million light years away, at a rate of 1,000 kilometers per second.
In other words, I just want it to be known my physical location on this planetoid is changing by about 2.5 degrees of latitude. That’s a lot!
A pending move means boxes. Packing lots and lots of boxes.
The more you pack the more exhausted you get.
The more exhausted you get the more you require peaceful, restful sleep.
The more you require sleep the more the more you lie in bed with your eyes open.
Can’t sleep. Might as well get up and pack some more boxes and make myself more tired.
From time to time here in the Abyss we receive unsolicited manuscripts. I want to assure the loyal reader that Mrs. Abyss was not coached in any way, shape or form by yours truly and came up with the following missive completely on her own. She did steal my cow orker bit, though. -Ed.
This is a true account of one girl’s departure from the fiery pit of Hell known as… work. She had the courage to claw her way out but not before facing four long years of pain, suffering, under-appreciation, long hours, criticisms, crawling from under the bus, anger, hatred, hysterical laughter and gut-wrenching tears.
But alas she escaped, bloodied and with broken fingernails, scars across her back, evil images burned in her mind, clothes dirty and torn… but with a smile on her face. A smile of freedom.
I gave a three-week notice. I’m a sicko.
Continue reading →
This is Anderson Catter interrupting your regularly scheduled bile to bring you this breaking CNN (Cat News Network) exclusive. We have been receiving reports of disturbing and unprecedented activities taking place across the household realm.
We go now live to Kitty Amanapurr on scene with this breaking report…
Thank you, Anderson. I am currently located on a bookcase shelf in the kitchen where formerly many cookbooks were kept. That all changed this weekend shortly after boxes were reportedly seen in the vicinity.
Initial eyewitnesses reported an influx of a large number of boxes. Box sightings are not that uncommon but this event was on a scale never before encountered. It seemed harmless and fun at first, as we investigated by sniffing all boxes and putting them to every test conceivable.
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“Hey up there, brain!” the body likes to say. “You fucking idiot. Check it out. Shit is happening all over this place. Wake up!”
Well played, body. Well played. Subtle as always.
What are major life stressors? I think they fall into two major categories.
- Things You Do Not Want
- Things You Asked For
I’m not sure which category is worse.
This week I changed jobs. (More details on that coming soon.) My wife has also put in her notice to resign her position. We’re moving out of our house of four years and leaving the small town for the big city. As of Sunday I got rid of my car. Christmas exists.
These are all stressors. I know because I looked them up.
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