Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Okay, okay, sorry, put the gun down. I know I missed the last two week's columns, but I had a good excuse: I was moving…an entire apartment…furniture and all…up stairs…by myself…no help. My nephew gave me a hand for a total of about an hour and a half – he had to work – but other than that, it was just me.
A friend of mine was good enough to loan me his flatbed trailer (it had a two-foot metal grate around it), which made it possible to move in only three loads, but dammit! Those loads almost killed me.
The trailer was eight feet long and about five feet wide, and I filled it to the brim. I didn't want to make any more trips than I had to, so with ratchet tie-downs, it was bulging like a Weight Watcher in spandex. I had eighteen large boxes of books alone! Another seven boxes of DVD's and VHS tapes. Two oversized boxes of kitchen junk, two boxes of bathroom things, three boxes of office supplies…this list goes on.
I don't have that much furniture; a desk, a file cabinet, three recliners, an entertainment center counter top (I haven’t built the bottom to it yet), an end table/ magazine rack, and of course, a mattress upon which I sleep (sadly, that's all I do on it).
I had to carry everything from the storage to the trailer. Then I had to carry everything from the trailer to the bottom of the breezeway stairs below my apartment, which is about seventy-five yards. From there, to the upstairs breezeway in front of my apartment, then, at last, into my apartment. So for three days I was seriously thinking of just chucking it all and heading for the Mekong Delta and joining Colonel Kurtz.
But alas, I kept my head, and got moved in.
Anyway, that's why I missed the last two week's columns. Needless to say, it was hell! I am never moving again. Even if a publisher offers me a million dollar advance for my novel, I'm still not moving. I will be contented with being a rich and famous writer, with a best selling book in all the major bookstores, living in a cheap little trashy one-bedroom apartment – forever! I hate moving that much (actually, if I did make it in the writing business, I'd probably buy the apartment complex and kick everybody out).
So there you go. That's my excuse. Forget water boarding, the military should just buy U-haul trucks. Give'em three days of that and Al-quaida will be pummeling Bin-Laden with bibles.
Sorry for the whining, but if you've ever moved before, you're probably blubbering in tears right now.
Next week I will be back at it. You know, all the wise and worldly wit and whimsy that you have come to expect from the coronal yet creepy Keck command.
So, until then, stay out of the dark.
Keck
P.S. If you've been having trouble emailing me, it's not you. Something's messed up on my end. I'll try to find out what the problem is and correct it before next week.
