And the house continues to empty out.
I finally got rid of the bedframe that has been the bane of my existence for all my time here. Years ago, bought a futon frame when I lived behind the Wine and Cheese Cask. One of my roommates, a little raver boy who was taking some time off from college to read philosophy, swing dance and perfect his pot brownie recipe spent the evening helping me to put the thing together. It took us time, but as I'm a plodder and he (is now) an engineer, we got it done and well. Loved that bed. (Loved him, too, dear thing.)
Loved it until I moved here. Penciled in an evening to reassemble the frame myself, but was brushed aside by the menfolk who insisted that they could do a better job, quicker. What did I take away (hate that term, by the way. Just seems kind of a propos right now) from this experience, aside from a bad back and many sleepless nights? Well, first off, never trust your nuts and bolts to someone else, even if you can claim biblical knowledge of them. 1/2 the hardware took flight somewhere between my old den and here. Also: it's a good idea to have concrete proof of credentials (in my case, the two railroaders claimed a carpentry and an engineering background).
Hated that bed in the new place. Every time I'd turn over in it, the squeak would echo throughout the house. Since I'm a light and very troubled sleeper, I'm sure that it sounded like I was constantly hosting an orgy.
Why didn't I get rid of it before? Frugality, maybe? Also, couldn't decide on a new bed. My judgement's been pretty clouded for a while. Anyway, last night I slept on my mattress on the floor. Was the best night's sleep I had in a very long time.
Pablo was supposed to help me get stuff out of the house, but was sick, so somehow I managed to get the unholy bedframe out on my own. Roberta across the street had called me over while I was stuck in my doorway, so asked her to wait a minute. The minute turned into 20 or so, as when I finally got the thing out curbside, Truther Dude came out with his trash. As we'd not seen each other in a while (and I've totally forgotten his name again), got caught up on stuff. He wasn't overjoyed to find that I was moving, but he did understand (lives in the basement apartment next door, can hear the landlord's kids screaming like banshees from there). As he was eyeing the frame I'd just put out, I asked him if he'd like it. As he thought he could put it in his studio, I helped him put it in their yard for the time being.
I then thanked him for the videos he gave me (but I haven't watched yet. Passed them around the office for laughs). He asked my opinion of a lot of the stuff, and I did manage to string some buzzwords together (the Tri Lateral Commission being behind the New World Order and all). Listened to an earful from him. Got a few responses in as well: No, I don't believe that 9/11 was planned by the government. Yes, politics is messed up right now. Are you still voting for Ron Paul? Me? Well, I'm going to write in my ex-boss in Texas. She'd make a good leader.
Since I had other stuff to put out (a plaster column, some old computer equipment. All of which disappeared within 10 minutes of my getting them on the curb), I excused myself and wished him well with the music, the business, etc. Told him I'd be around some to harass Raphaella, so he should stop by her place to say hello sometime.