Let’s turn Franklin into a place for Maurice Sendak to write about!
That probably didn’t make any sense. Here, let me connect the dots. There’s the song Wild Thing, right? WILD Thing… you make my HEART sing… you make EVrything… GROOvy…. you MOVE me.
And I want someone to MOVE me, from here to Wilhelmsplatz, which means I need Wild Things here, which means I need Maurice Sendak to draw me some critters that go bump in the night.
(I always figured that line in the song was about an erection. Am I wrong?)
The awful things is that I don’t know anyone who can help me move. Dad is willing to drive 6 hours out here, but his back has been giving him problems and it’s really hard for him to get off work. It’s well nigh impossible for Mom to get off work… and it’s not like they’re spring chickens, anyway. What kind of lousy daughter would I be if I asked them for help?
I have plenty of friendly coworkers around here but they’re almost all Of A Mature Age, and frankly they’re not in the greatest shape to start with. I don’t want to be responsible for giving anyone a heart attack. I have three, count em three, coworkers who are younger than 40. Tom and Shameka both work on the day I’m moving. Crystal is in the middle of moving herself, and besides she’s got for a four-year-old.
Rob could drive up here from Chapel Hill but he’s in the middle of a senior year semester. Mike could drive up here from Durham but he’s broke. And that juuuuuust about exhausts the number of exes I have with whom I am on friendly enough terms to beg a moving favor. Any other ex would prolly dump my stuff from the James River bridge.
So at risk of exposing how few friends I actually have, I have to admit that I’m running out of people to ask. I still have a few good buddies tucked away, but durn if they don’t all live far away. And since I’m lousy at keeping in touch anyway, it would be really tacky to call them up out of the blue and beg them for physical labor. ("Amber! What’s in been, 10 months? A year? How’s everything? Great, great… Say, you wanna drive 3 hours and help me move, and then drive another 2 hours to haul my shit up two flights of stairs? And then drive back?")
I checked on Craig’s List for movers and odd-jobbers. Keep your fingers crossed that something comes through.
And if anyone’s been wondering why I’ve been maintaining my blog so faithfully this past week, well– isn’t it obvious? I’m procrastinating.