Bruce has been telling me for over a year how terrible it was to move his giant desk into the apartment. Apparently, some people lost some eyes. Now they have to go around eyeless. It was that bad. So I was a little scared when it came time to get the monster out of there.
Looks like a tight fit, doesn't it?
Yeah, it was that easy. We deducted that the reason it took so long the first time around is that on his last moving day, he and his movers stopped off for some kegerator goodness beforehand.
Here are some more pictures of the move - not too many, didn't want to annoy the movers.
That last one is the last picture of me in the apartment. It's a little sad leaving the only place I've lived in for a whole year that isn't my parent's house. And then I think, actually, it's not.
I also wanted to mention that if you are planning on moving, ever, you should maybe get you two guys who are totally into the moving thing to help. Because they will be rockstars and get everything done (EVERYTHING) in 6 hours and bring the U-Haul back with time to spare. This is amazing. It helps if you plan ahead and are born into a family with a custodian/housecleaner as a mother, so that you derive insane amounts of pleasure from cleaning empty rooms. I swear, this has been my problem my whole life; I don't hate to clean, I hate to clean around things. So now, whenever B wants me to vacuum, all he has to do is clear everything out of the room so that I don't have to move around shit. Easy-peasy, right?
PS: Does everyone else get as big a kick out of their archives as I do? Sometimes I look back and I think, "Man, I am a rockstar/comedian. Bruce is SO LUCKY." And then there are other times when I look back and think, "Dude, I'm such a booze-hound."