Stuff

Both times that I've visited dr soc in Charlotte I've moved a few (snort) things to him in the same trip. Which no big deal, except when he wants me to bring something that's oddly shaped.

The first trip he wanted his vacuum cleaner, which I had a whale of a time getting in the car. It's bulky and awkward. I was running an hour behind schedule, had a 7 hour drive ahead of me, and my dad was trying to help but was just getting in the way not to mention was the reason I was an hour behind schedule. My mood was testy to say the least. So here I am, trying to shove his stupid vacuum cleaner in the backseat of my rental car, when it slips and jambs my finger and drew a little bit of blood plus a string of curse words. I then start cursing at him in North Carolina (where he can't hear me), and informed the moving gods that he better vacuum ever god d*mn day for all the trouble this mother f*cker was giving me.

Having not learned my lesson, the second trip, I brought him more stuff. This time it was some extra bedding in this giant tupperware crate and a filing cabinet. They were just a little too big to get into the trunk, but they fit in the back seat, so that was fine. However, this time, the weaselly bastard piece of furniture was the ironing board. Because it won't bend and is just a little too big to fit in the trunk as well. With some angling, trickery and brute force, (and cursing, of course), I managed to get that in the car and be on my way.

So I call him to tell him I'm on the road and to give an eta, but of course I give an account of all the injustices his stuff gave me as well. What kind of helpful girlfriend would I be if I didn't. And after wresting with the ironing board and definitely coming out more worse for the wear, I decided I'm not taking any more stuff. Because "you're stuff has the inherent ability to to pissing me off!"