rhapsodic.org

Partly Moved

The internet might be tired of staring at my dog, but I am tired of staring at boxes. So I think it is really a fair trade, yes?

I had made plans for my brother Rodney, his pickup, and his trailer to go to Fairbanks with me this past weekend to grab my things. I got Friday off from work for the special weekend trip to fully maximize packing time (the drive alone would cut 12+ hours out of the weekend), only to find out Rodney got an unheard of five-day long shoring job in the middle of November.

And $35 an hour is worth ditching one's little sister.
At least that's what I am told.

Instead of Rodney going to Fairbanks with me this past weekend, Heidi volunteered my brother John and his pickup for the job.

Half of the trip John acted like a goofy tourist. "Ooh, mountains! Ooh, frosty tundra! I'm stopping for a picture" and nearly getting us killed by turning around to head back into Cantwell after we had made it through without being eaten alive by inbred mutants or pieces of the truck exploding just to take a picture of a wolf standing by the road.

Half the trip he acted like a teenager seeing how fast he could push his mom's minivan (98mph) (stupid governor).

Half of the trip John consumed two Guinnesses more than he should have and became quite de-motivated and useless. I'm glad he was so chatty and happy, it's just that boxes don't get packed with another story about your teenage daughter breaking up with her boyfriend.

And half of the trip he became Truck Bed Packer Extraordinaire and managed to fit approximately three million boxes into the bed of his pickup, PLUS the all-important ice cream maker. If it had come down to a choice between the ice cream maker and the Kitchen Aid mixer, I would have made John hitch hike back to Anchorage.

Heidi: Where's John?
Valette: Left him on the side of the road to freeze.
Heidi: Oh noes! How could you?!
Valette: Want some warm homemade brownies and homemade ice cream?
Heidi: *droolz* Best not to dwell in the past.

I now have most of my stuff in my new apartment in Anchorage. At least I think it's most of my stuff; it all just looks like boxes labeled, "KITCHEN: random shit" (which, thank you Beth for your eloquent labeling skillz).

I'm still going to make Rodney go back to Fairbanks with me this weekend after Thanksgiving (Three day work week! Woo!) to get my furniture. Maybe I will bribe him with a secret trip out to Chena Hot Springs.

It will have to be a secret trip because otherwise his wife will want to go. And so will my entire family and perhaps the entire internet. And I don't want the internet thinking I will buy them a ticket to Chena Hot Springs and hotel rooms because there are too many people to sleep on the floor in my empty Fairbanks apartment.

That just isn't going to happen because I am too cheap and too broke and besides, who would watch my dog while my family and the internet is goofing off in Fairbanks?