Moving Day

I helped my good friend's parents move into their new house last weekend. I drank beer and watched the movers carry stuff. I occasionally got in the way. One friend, I'll call him the Canuck, helped me.

The Canuck will drink Heineken, so I let him. Fortunately, I didn't have to drink too many Coronas before Gaah showed up with the good stuff. The wimmins upacked boxes and drank wine. I helped them, too, when the Boont ran out.

The Canuck and I did some actual work. When we had become stupid enough, we allowed the son-in-law to convince us that a refrigerator needed to go into the closet/utility room which houses the furnace. He then accomplished the even more difficult task of convincing us that we were the Men For The Job. It was a tight squeeze, even after we took the doors off. Just to clear up any confusion, we put the doors back on when it was in.

The CFO outdid us though. He showed up just as the son-in-law arrived with the Chinese food. Masterful timing, as usual. He has a gift.

After eating egg fu yung with sauce on the side, potstickers, kung pao chicken, etc., the real work began. The guys got the TV hooked up and the football game on. They jumped into some serious debate over the Ohio State/Michigan game. I left the room.

I'd rather talk shoes with the wimmins. This makes me popular with them. The guys tolerate me because I possess Power Tools. They like to borrow them, especially when I'm using them on their projects. The wimmins like this, also.

I am convinced the guys talk football just to get rid of me. This is not simply paranoia. I have reasons for saying this. I was describing a pair of sling-back pumps I admire when I heard the abrupt change of subject in the other room: Britney is dumping K-Fed. I have no opinion about Ohio/Michigan, but this is Stuff that Matters. As soon as I reappear, the conversation swerves back to the Ball Game.

OK, fine. I go back and chat up their wives.

The movers finished the moving. The parents were exhausted, and so was the wine, beer, and Chinese. The son-in-law finally succeeded in kicking us all out around 10.

That reminds me. It's pronounced flack-sid! Not flas-sid. Listen! Suck-seed, ack-sident, ack-sept, etc. Don't even talk to me about fell-at-ee-o. Wake up!