2 July 2002 - 9:32 p.m.

Where did I leave off?

Well, to quickly summarize the remainder of my weekend, Sunday was spent playing with children, eating shish kababs, and driving home in my Dad's truck.

Monday, aka yesterday, I helped Gus move. I hate moving, for so many reasons. For one, I hate lifting things. I can't lift much; my Swan Lake arms are good for show but not much else. If it's not too heavy, chances are it's too big, and I can't get my arms around it.

For another thing, moving is so much easier in theory than it is in practice. I just can't get my mind around the notion that one bed, one dresser, one desk, one chair, and one couch require three hours and three trips in a pickup truck - and yet they did! I'm not really sure why the buddhists, et. al. are anti-material possessions, but I an tell you why I am: furniture is just too damn heavy to be bothered with.

And am I just a bad mover, or does everything seem to take a beating when it's moved? Dirty couch upholstery, torn box spring, loose dovetail joints - casualties of yesterday's move, all. Two and a half years ago, my parents built a house because they wanted somewhere to stay until they died. I used to think that was sad. Now I think they're brilliant. Their stuff is in. It's staying in. How sweet is that?

So, yes, yesterday morning was pretty much a slow stroll through hell, but I did experience a surprisingly Blanch DuBois-y moment when, while Gus and I tried to haul the criminally heavy faux-wicker dresser (why make faux-wicker, I ask you? To taunt people? "Look at me, I appear to be lightweight, but I'm actually wood! Bwa ha ha ha ha!") up the sidewalk, a guy in a shiny Mercedes and a pinstripe suit pulled up along the sidewalk and watched us with great interest. Just as I was about to flip this guy the bird, just by virtue of the fact that his car was air conditioned and I was sio uncomfortable that I would have flipped Mr. Rodgers the bird, he jumped out and said to me, "I've got nothign better to do, let me help. You look dead tired." He then proceeded to help Gus carry the two-ton faux-wicker dresser into the building.

Now, I am no big advocate of random acts of kindess, simply because I really think the key to a better world is everyone acheiving an even level of decency, but this guy totally turned my day around. Pinstripe suit dude, wherever you are, thank you for helping along the Karmic balance by lifting a heavy object for someone who can barely lift a gallon of milk.

With much of Gus' moving out of the way, and with many sore muscles very much present, Gus and I will be convalescing with the aid of Afred Hitchcock. Tonight we enjoyed the perennial favorite North By Northwest, which left me wiht a taste for slightly edgier fare, and so tomorrow or Thursday we will view Rebecca.

I really wish Hitchcock could have gone on making movies forever. Unlike, say, Busby Berkeley or Arthur Freed, I think he could do really well with some of the Hollywood talent today. How rad would Jeremy Irons be, or Reese Withersppon as a Hitchcock blonde? Here, finally, is a case for human cloning.

What I'm wearing:

What I'm reading:

What I'm doing after this: