A New Kind of Tired

Moving was brutal.

The movers underestimated my move time by 4 hours, which was problematic to say the least, especially since it was at least $400 over budget. Not only was I utterly exhausted, I wound up writing them a check almost as big as my old rent. I was pissed. Somehow, although I’m not the punitive sort, I forgot to tip them. I think the same part of my brain that cuts me off before I drink too much coffee or alcohol also kept me from giving them any more money.

As I was managing the movers, two people from the HOA stopped by to try to convince me to come to the Annual General Meeting being held that evening so that they could get a quorum to vote in new officers. Methinks none of them remember what it’s like to move. I had holes in my brain, I was so tired. And I still needed to run back to Montrose to buy more Feliway from Petco and pick up the kitten babies who’d been locked in the bathroom since 6:30am that morning. In fact, when all was said and done, I was too tired to even drink champagne. That is a new kind of tired, my friend.

Speaking of the devils, Robie and Saphron quickly adjusted to the space. My first night was fitful, as worn out as I was, mostly because they were running around at all hours. They’d discovered the frictionless wonders of Pergo and how it can rev up ordinary toys like, say, jingling balls and fuzzy mice until they sound like power boats. And then Robie decided that jumping up into my bedroom window was especially rockin’ because of the way the vertical blinds exploded with clattering. Around 6:00am I kicked them both out so that I could at least rest a bit.

I really resented the price of moving. I then realized I’ve moved four times since 2006. The cost for me to have decent movers has doubled in that time. It’s so not like me to move at all. I lived in Hollywood for nearly 10 years, perfectly content in my little 1-bedroom apartment. I just hope I don’t have to move for a very long time.

The good news is that, when I pulled into my parking space in the garage, I discovered to my vast amusement that my next door neighbor had arrived home and had already parked in the space next to mine. His license plate frame says:

You Matter to God
Saddleback Church

My license plate frame says:

I’d Rather Be
Mocking Jehovah

(Not to mention I have the “No Jesus, Know Peace” bumper sticker.)

This is so great, I can’t even tell you. Actually, I need to tell Dan Savage…

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