Moving: I’ve done it a lot. More than most I would say. I’m somewhat of a pro at it much to the chagrin of my mother, I’m sure. It pretty much goes the same every time. I start out with all of the boxes being organized and labeled by room for easy unpacking and somewhere along the way shit goes south. By the end of the whole debacle there’s usually a box that is scribbled upon haphazardly with a Sharpie marker listing the contents as 1 eggbeater – 1/2 bag of cat food – Nerf gun + ammo – broken dreams – 2 cans of soup. You know, the miscellaneous shit that you just toss in a box at the end of the packing fiasco just so you can end it, accept the fact that you’re not getting your security deposit back and get on down the fucking road.
This last move to Seattle was no different and I found evidence of it in the basement the other night. Behold:
I see a modeling session in Bruce’s future!
Cheers ~ SF