The Great Moving Depression: Day Two

A few days after my adventure with movers extraordinaires, I rented a car to pick up my child (hamster) and the last few items from the old apartment.  My buddy agreed to help me move some furniture I was donating to the neighborhood scavengers and take stuff to the new apartment.  He is such a doll! Well, I leave my massive bedroom in the new apartment and travel about 45 minutes via public transportation (car rental didn't start for a few hours).  The plan was to get there 2 hours early and have everything ready to go when my buddy arrived. Yeah... Okay so here's where things go slightly awry.

First off, it was hot and humid.  I was sweating like a hoe in patent leather, crotchless panties, sitting in a Southern Baptist Church with her lesbian lover.  Of course, I thought the best way to dress for a move in terrible heat was to wear jeans... JUDGEMENT FREE ZONE!

So I arrive at the apartment at 1145am.  I started patting myself on the back from getting there in a timely manner.  And then I realized I did not have my keys.

The Great Moving Depression: Day One

Recently, I moved out of my cute little studio into an unfortunate but tolerable 2 bedroom apartment with a complete stranger in order to save money for school.  I really would like to have a career instead of a job, so I have to make some sacrifices... That is an entirely different post of its own! Anyway, it is just for summer, so I think I can survive. The unrealized level of filth and cluelessness was unknown to me for obvious reasons.  I moved 90% of my things using a very reputable (*cough* cheap *cough*) moving service I found on CL aka robabitch.com, hoesforchange.com, and weirdosunited.org.  One of the movers seems like a nice guy.  He was quiet but respectful. If I were to overlook the unfortunate neck tattoo, I would say he was cute.  That is until he removed his cap and revealed the glory that was his face tattoo.  It was clASSy with a capital ASS! In the middle of his otherwise cute face sat two crosses: one of them so elegantly placed upside down **SWOON/Le Sigh**.  Such an unfortunate situation! Anyway, as they packed the van with my stuff, I kept running the statistics on the chances of me being robbed, stabbed, or sold to the highest bidder at a street gang auction.  I kept coming up with pretty decent odds of that happening, but not enough to call off the move. HEY! I LIVE IN BOSTON! When it is time to move, you will sell your right knee cap for a cheap mover in an otherwise expensive city that gets away with scamming you into accepting dumps as fancy apartments.  Judgement free zone over here, people!