A Herculean Labor

There is pain. There is hair sticking out wild and smelly clothing. There were many hours of dollies and lifting and stacking. One more load and we'll have all our crap in the new apartment. The load is sitting on the street. In a U-Haul. Secured by a six dollar lock. And my pinky finger hurts when it touches the keys.

I could tell you how we got reprimanded for using the carpet rolls instead of the plastic protectors, which didn't exist where they were supposed to exist and we figured they meant carpet rolls anyway because they were in the same place. Plus our landlady pointed to the carpet rolls and said, "Use those." And it's really very simple and we should have known to go through three locked doors into the neighboring building to find the plastic protectors in a cardboard box. I don't know why it didn't occur to us sooner.

In the end we met many nice neighbors and some that were only sorta nice. We were told by the mailman that we were awfully young to be living here, "You'll see what I mean..." And last night, a neighbor brought us chocolate chip cookies. She is very nice.

But it's true. We are much younger than everybody else. Much much younger. And so far my strategy is to be super polite and hope they don't try to evict us for living in sin. Cuz we cohabitate, yo. And some of them have been eyeing our ring fingers with a special kind of fascination. One neighbor said, "And you're, uh, you two are, uh..." and the other neighbor turned to her and said loudly, "They're a couple."

I need to lie down now. I totally deserve it.