Urban Mountaineering IV
Yesterday afternoon my neighbor H. rang the doorbell. I should've known not to open the door (I should've known this because her boyfriend was standing next to her, waving his hands, and saying "DON'T OPEN THE DOOR! DON'T OPEN THE DOOR!") But foolishly I did, and then, of course, I got enlisted into helping her move. From her current second-floor walk-up to her new third-floor walk-up. Both with pretty long front steps, too.
So I think I did about 40 flights, up and down, averaging about 40 pounds of stuff per flight. I swear, she has more stuff than any other 20-something I know.
They did buy me beer and pizza after, though, so I'm not complaining.
So I think I did about 40 flights, up and down, averaging about 40 pounds of stuff per flight. I swear, she has more stuff than any other 20-something I know.
They did buy me beer and pizza after, though, so I'm not complaining.
posted by Turbo at 10:05 AM
4 Comments:
knock, knock . . .
Sometimes you get a warning, sometimes you don't. Sometimes you listen, sometimes you don't.
That's crap. You're out of the agency. Hope the pizza was worth it.
Friends help you move; real friends help you move bodies.
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