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ABOUT ME

About me: I'm a 40-something mother to a pickle party of a family. My husband Chuck, our tween Junior, our 6-year-old Everett, our toddler Cam, and I live in a town in Connecticut I affectionately call Mulletville Lite (aka my childhood hometown). My friends call me Nutjob, and they're right. In my husband's spare time he dresses up as a Viking and chases ghosts (and I'm the nutjob?). I'm a freelance graphic designer and writer.

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

Ten signs you're on the cusp. No. 1: You contemplate setting up your bedroom in the parking lot. No. 2: You swear a lot. No. 3...

When my friend Jen and I rented an apartment together 10 years ago, I moved most of my belongings in by myself. At the time, Chuck and I were taking a break and I was going through my I-am-an-independent-woman-hear-me-roar phase.

I may have even, ehem, stopped shaving my armpits.

I said may have.

Because the walkway leading to the front door of the apartment was a winter mud and slush pit, I had no choice but to move my things in through the back entrance. The door at the top was nice and wide, but the stairwell was a narrow two-story metal fire escape.

My solo stint was going fine until I got to my futon mattress, which was a double.



If you’ve ever tried to pull or tug on a futon mattress you know that it’s impossible. They weigh a ton, and you can’t get a good grip because its innards are so smushy.

Hear.me.roar.

I grabbed the edges and dragged it out of the car, then hogtied it with electrical cords and pushed it towards the stairwell.

What ensued was 45 minutes of grunting, pushing, tugging, grabbing, climbing, swearing, bending, jumping and crying. The cords kept catching on the railing. I couldn’t get a good enough handful of stuffing to pull it. I wasn’t strong enough to push it. I felt like a pencil trying to birth an elephant through my eraser top crotch. But I did it. I finally pushed that Godforsaken mattress

all

the

way

up

the

stairs.

When I leaned against the railing to catch my breath, I looked over and saw that an entire apartment complex had been watching me out of their windows. Watching and laughing. Laughing and watching.

Bastards.

Yesterday, as I carried co-worker Robert’s 20-pound frozen turkey up his creaky, slippery fire escape stairs because he assumed his complimentary ride home included the services of a personal assistant—he even asked me to stop for smokes at the gas station!—I found myself remembering that fateful futon fuck. And I started laughing hysterically.

Life is absurd sometimes, isn't it?

I laughed the whole way home. Laughing while riding through Mulletville felt as good as sex. I felt like a fucking superhero.

I hope you laugh a lot this holiday—even if some dude who smells like cat pee is staring at you like you're crazy as you slap his frozen turkey on his counter and back slowly away.

Especially if.

Gobble, gobble.

P.S. If you'd like to read about my Aunt Burty and her affinity for drumstick strumming (as in, her own drumstick), check it out at honestbaby. It's a real whisker biscuit tickler.

22 comments:

Mama Badger said...

Ok, did you just say "Whisker biscuit tickler"? Cause I may have to steal that.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Shana said...

You are hilarious. Biscuit tickler got me...lol.

Katherine said...

Haha. Just the laugh I needed this morning. I've had those hear-me-roar moments. I once carried a 27-inch TV (before the whole flat screen thing was invented) from the second story apartment to my car and shoved it in the back seat. Someone asked if I needed help. Help? Please. I have this under control. My back hurt for a week!

Brandy said...

have a great holiday.

Sara said...

OMGawd! You just said whisker biscuit tickler and it took me until the end of the Aunt Berty story to figure out what that meant. EW de gracias. *shudder*

Happy Thanksgiving!

Working Mommy said...

OH. MY. GOD!!!

As I was reading your futon story, I couldn't help but think back to the time that I, too, was moving my own bed into my new townhouse.

The stair-way is SUPER small and while going to see the house - when it was still for sale - I asked the home owners about that fact and how it was they got their queen sized bed up the stairs.

They mentioned that the mattress fits, but that I needed to get a split box spring so they each fit up separately...I neglected to remember that fact and got a queen box.

Lets just say that trying to get that thing up the stairs was similar to having a cat give birth to a rhino - with no lube - and leave it at that...yeah...interesting is RIGHT!!

Happy Hump Day SITStah!!

~Working Mommy
Come on by, stay for a while and leave a comment or two!

Stacie's Madness said...

*giggle*
you're so funny. have a happy thanksgiving!

Pricilla said...

Was opera playing?

Dan River Mama said...

LOL I can move just about anything, as long as I can manage to get a sheet under it. I once hung mini-blinds in every room of my house, using a butter knife. My proudest moment is when I repaired the broken belt in my cassette player with the top rim from a condom! It worked for a full year! LOL

You always have the best posts. Happy Thanksgiving!

Keely said...

Nice. Futons are ridiculous. We once moved one in a Miata by rolling it up and holding it out the side of the car while we drove across Vancouver.

I *so* wanted a sign on the other side that said "Wongs Oversized Eggroll Delivery".

Buggys said...

Lollllllll!! Oh the things we do. Cat pee? I'm glad you got a laugh out of all that cuz' I sure did. Happy Thanksgiving.

Mad Woman said...

Oh I've had moves like that. I couldn't help but wonder why those assholes didn't offer to help. But then I realised I probably wouldn't have either. Much funnier to watch.

I can't believe you carried his turkey for him. Lazy bum.

Lindy said...

Again with the "cusp?"

And, the only thing I thought about while reading this post was Ross on friends....pivvvvot, pivvvvottttt!

And also, you need to submit the mileage on your expense report and because the experience caused laughter that was better than sex, well, that's called a win-win, my friend. That's basically getting paid for sex, legally! Your welcome.

Joan M. Cannon said...

You ARE a Superhero!
Happy Thanksgiving from the bowels of another level of hell called Naples, FL...just as strange as Mulletville...and laffable.

Stacy (the Random Cool Chick) said...

Moving a futon mattress is no easy feat. You ROCK!

Happy Thanksgiving! :)

kyooty said...

Happy Turkey Deliveryday later

Suzi said...

Futon's suck! Good for you for being the helpful coworker, even if you didn't want to. Happy Thanksgiving!

FoN said...

What kind of asshole neighbours did you have that watched you struggle for three quarters of an hour and didn't help you? I would have immediately thrown a very LOUD party. You know, to thank them all for the warm welcome.

SLColman said...

Hope you had a wonderful holiday and a peaceful weekend!

Julia said...

I take back what I said about sympathy and feeling bad for this dude who got the turkey... you put me over the edge with "cat pee."

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Dto3 said...

P-I-V-O-T!

Happy Late Turkey Day!