Everything is wrong with me
Tuesday, June 01, 2004
A few notes about moving and the weekend in general:

- Moving sucks. Big time. Getting a sleeper sofa down five flights of very narrow stairs (in an old tenement building) was excruciating. And I'm not a personal trainer, but I don't think it's a good idea to go to the gym for the first time in a while the night before the move and work out really, really hard, so that when your roommates wake you up at 8am the next morning and say, "Hey, can you give us a hand with this dresser?", you have to say, "Unfortunately, no - I think my shoulders have detached from my torso."

And of course, that answer doesn't get you a free pass for the day.

- Cleaning the apartment the day after the move was even worse. There was a point at about 2pm on Sunday afternoon that I collapsed on my floor, having drank until 7am and slept only two hours the night before (after waking up at 8am on Saturday and moving all day), my allergies at an all-time high because of the tremendous amount of dust, physically, mentally, and emotionally crushed by the enormity of the task, when all I wanted to do was head back to my new beautiful, clean, and cool apartment to play with myself.

- Having my own bathroom is everything I thought it would be and more. I've never had my own bathroom in my life. When I went to high school (a prep school with rich kids), I was shocked to learn that people lived in houses that had more than one bathroom. My grandparents raised ten kids in a house that had 1.5 bathrooms. The point: I've never even been close to having my very own bathroom.

So boy am I happy now. My bedroom is still a mess because I've spent so much time in the bathroom, taking long showers, cleaning it, and shitting a lot, forcing it out even when I don't have to, just so I can spend more time in there.

I love it. I really do.

- My new place is amazing. And I don't care if it's in the Upper East Side, the conveniences are worth it: laundry & dry cleaning, gym, pool, two sun decks, Blockbuster, supermarket (with $11 Mach 3 razors - wow), and ATM are all in the building. And it's not like the UES is a cultural or social wasteland, as there's plenty of stuff to do, and it's not like I'll never go out below 70th Street again (on Saturday night, we were at 29th & 3rd). So there.

- A comparison:

Old building: filled with Chinese immigrants
New building: filled with a boatload of attractive women my age

It's not like I have anything against Chinese immigrants, because I don't. And it's not like I'll ever talk to these attractive women, because if I do it will end like it always does: a visit from the authorities. But still, it's worth mentioning.

- Things lost in the move: glasses, most of my contacts, beard trimmer, shampoo, toothbrush, razor

- Things I didn't do for two days (from Saturday morning until Monday afternoon): brush my teeth, wash my hair, shave

- Things I still haven't done: worn my glasses, trimmed my goatee

- I spent $700 at Bed, Bath & Beyond this weekend. This is because it got to the point in the move that I was just throwing out everything, rather than packing it.

My roommate Brian: "Jay, do you want me to help you put your bed and dresser in the U-Haul?"
Me: "Fuck 'em. They are too heavy. I'll just get new ones."

My roommate Ben: "Jay, do you want me to pack your collection of 300 cds?"
Me: "Fuck it - just throw them out. God, I am exhausted."

- My mom, dad, and brother came up, and they were surprisingly (and thankfully) easy to deal with.

It's weird - my parents are so blown away by NYC. That's not weird in itself, but it's not like we're from the sticks - I grew up a mile away from downtown Philly, and they're still completely blown away. Funny stuff.

My mom loves my new place. She brought a digital camera just so that she could take pictures. And sure enough, she took about one hundred pictures of the place, the neighborhood, and the city. I told her that Miss Diana Ross lives in the penthouse of my new building (a complete lie), and as we were moving stuff in, I heard her talking to the doorman:

Mom: "So do you have to help move a lot of stuff in?"
Doorman: [thick Arabian accent] "Yes."
Mom: "Have you helped Diana Ross move stuff in?"
Doorman: [completely befuddled by the question, makes a grunt noise]
Mom: "Because I bet those pianos are heavy."
Doorman: [another grunt noise]

- The only thing I have to say is thank god it's over. What a terrible experience. I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy.

And to those who helped me move this weekend, I am eternally grateful. Not so eternally grateful to help you move, because, like I told you, I will be out of town that weekend. Whenever it is.

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