The move – part 1

Yes, there will be more than one part to the telling of the story of my move.  There is too much asshattery by the doofus to tell it all in one sitting.

My Dad got here last Tuesday and was at my house bright and early Wednesday morning to help me pack up and get ready to move.  We busted our butts and got everything down into the garage from upstairs that we could.  Now, my father is in his 60’s and has bad knees and ankles.  Yet, there he was, busting hump up and down the stairs.

The asshole was, of course,  no where to be found.  And, when he was, he was of zero help.

That first day, Dad and I got most everything packed up and moved into the garage.  The heavier stuff I told Dad to leave for me and the asshole to move because I didn’t want my father hurting himself.

On Wednesday night I stayed up till after midnight packing stuff up and getting it into the garage.  On Thursday morning, the garage was full so Dad and I loaded up the UHaul that I had picked up on Wednesday.

Up and down the ramp we went.  Moving boxes and pieces of beds from the boys.  We loaded up bookcases and box after box after box.

I am not lying when I say that the asshole leaned his ass against the deep freeze in the garage and watched us do this.  A 60+ year old and his wife trucking box after box up into the truck.  Didn’t ask if he could help, wasn’t doing what he needed to do to get his stuff ready for the movers.

Just sitting there like a bump on a log.

After my Dad went back to his hotel room for the night, I was finishing packing up the last of the house and getting everything into the garage that night.  The asshole had to clean off his desk and get the living room ready for the packers the next day.  He had one room in the whole house to get ready for the packers to move.  It took him 5 hours.

Why?  Because he kept sitting down on the couch and watching reruns of “Everybody Loves Raymond” instead of doing what needed to be done.

I’m lugging stuff downstairs, taking apart my bed, getting boxes down the stairs to the garage, sweating my ass off.  I asked him to help me carry the headboard and footboard downstairs off the queen size bed in the master bedroom.  He says, and I shit you not, “I could carry the footboard down myself, but I don’t want to waste all my energy before I go through my clothes.”


Then I ask him to help me take the last bookcase downstairs, telling him I don’t want my Dad to help because he might hurt himself.  The asshole says, “Well, why don’t you tell your Dad to not move stuff.  It’s not like I haven’t  been helping.”

Wow.  Really?  I would love to live in your universe.  Sounds like a nice place to live.

Then he tells me that his mother will be there on Friday with her nurse.  I say, “Have you told your mother to be polite?  Cause I had that talk with my father and he’s been very polite to you, even buying you dinner.”

He says, “I have no problem with your father.  And you know how far talks with my mother go.”

I say, “Well, my father has a big fucking problem with you and he’s managed to hold his tongue so your mother better do the same damn thing.”

Luckily, I never saw his mom while we were moving.

Friday, I brought my father over to the new house to see it and to meet my landlord.  My Dad was very impressed with Al and thought he was really nice.  Of course, Al is a good guy (when he’s not on a bender) and Al agreed to let us move stuff in even though he wasn’t fully moved out.  He allowed us to move stuff into the dining room and living room on Friday because he wasn’t moved out of the bedrooms and kitchen yet.

Dad and I drive back to the house to get the UHaul and we walked in the house to look around and see if we had gotten everything out, except my bed because I was going to spend the night at the old house and then have my friends come to help me move on Saturday.  We walked in and looked around at the mess that was left.  Dad says, “Well, this’ll be fun to clean.”  I say, “Well, I’m not cleaning it, so I guess the asshole is going to have fun with it.”

Said asshole then walked down the stairs.  He was upstairs sleeping.

Cause, of course, he had nothing to do but sleep.  There wasn’t a whole house for him to clean or anything.

As we left with the UHaul, I saw a base truck driving around with the snowplow attached.  The first fluttering of panic set in and I asked the driver if they were expecting snow that night.  He said they were expecting three inches of snow that night.

Well, damn, that’s not good.  None of my friends were thinking they were moving me till Saturday.  And the house isn’t the easiest to get stuff into, so snow spelled doom.

We get to the house and start unloading and I call the asshole and say, “I need your help  moving stuff into the house because they’re calling for three inches of snow tonight and I won’t be able to move tomorrow.”  He says, “No.  You’re not helping me clean the house, so I’m not helping you move.”  I called him various un-nice names and hung up the phone.

Seriously, dude?  You’re not going to help me move your kids into their new house?  Wow, that’s mature.

So, I made some calls.  Three of my friends sent their husbands over and one of them came herself to help me get the master bedroom cleaned out.  Within an hour, we were loaded up and moved in to the house because of these great friends.

And the whole time that they are loading me up, the asshole is standing there watching them, not offering any help.

Yeah, that made an impression.

By Friday night at 11, all of my stuff was moved out of the house and I was ensconced in my new place.  I spent the night here on Friday night and enjoyed it.  It’s a great place and the walls seem to radiate comfort.  On Saturday morning, my  landlord called and asked how I had slept.  Yeah, he’s a good guy.

There’s more to this story, but I’ll leave that for the next post.  There’s all new asshattery galore over the weekend!

For now, have a terrific Thursday.  I’m going to!



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