SHAFTWAXER

This is usually the sound that I wake to. There is an Indian guy that lives next to me (think Ghandi, not Sitting Bull) that comes out most mornings… and afternoons… and nights for that matter… to have a smoke break. This in and of itself is really nothing out of the ordinary, there are tons of people who still piss away money on that shit. What I find most interesting is that the entire time that he’s outside, he’s completely HACKING UP A LUNG. The whole time. He clearly isn’t feeling good, and the frequency of the cough would be enough to make me consider that it might be time to cut that shit out. But no… We get to listen to his lungs shit all over themselves every day. He likes to sit by his window when he’s inside. Coughing.

I realized a while ago that I never really recounted the whole moving thing. It was tiring, and it was difficult, but in the end everything worked out. We thought a 16ft truck would do the job, and we had already been doing our part to really cut down on the stuff we were taking. Lots of trips to GoodWill, even more trips out to the dumpster. Both of us were pretty much established with full sets of furniture, loaded kitchen, and everything else that goes with it. We knew the “Great Merger of the Shit(TM)” would cause some doubling up, so we actively were working to minimize it. The worst was the kitchen supplies. When it was all said and done, combined with the fact that our kitchen is probably the smallest that either of us have ever had, we still had WAY too much kitchen shit.

In the end, it all worked out though. Our apartment is very full, but not crowded. It feels nice and homey. (Coughing man just walked by again) The cat is happy, she has lots of window space to look out at, and nothing makes a cat happier than to have a bunch of birds and squirrels wandering around outside. Aside from that, the woman has started her job, the bank accounts, phone plan, and credit cards have merged, and I try and get as much done during the day as possible so I can be the good little domestic housewife and have dinner started when she comes home. We hit the gym most nights after dinner. We are so suburban yuppie it’s insane.

…and I’m just fine with that.