I apologize in advance if this post seems incoherent or more poorly-written than usual. I’ve been working on about five hours of sleep. Which probably sounds like a semi-decent amount, except for the fact they’ve been spent on a sagging air mattress (or, as Lisa likes to call it, the inflatable equivalent of a bed of nails).
You’re probably thinking, “Why aren’t you two sleeping comfortably on your queen-size bed under Egyptian 900 thread-count sheets?”
Because our stuff is still in Dallas.
“Why is your stuff still in Dallas?”
Because the moving company hasn’t left yet.
“Why hasn’t the moving company left yet?”
As soon as I finish torturing my “relocation consultant,” I’ll let you know. Now stop asking questions and let me quietly slip into sleep-deprived lunacy.
I know the promise was made last week to post pictures of our new apartment. But on Sunday, after learning the moving truck would not be arriving, Lisa and I had to switch into basic survival mode. Like our Cro-Magnon ancestors we spent the day searching for food, bedding and designer bottled water. Naturally, we found ourselves at Target – proof that Darwin didn’t know squat.
The only Target is a forty-minute drive outside city proper. Unsurprisingly the store was swarming like the condom aisle at Walgreen’s on prom night. Again like our cave-ancestors, we were forced to fight off competition - elbowing our way through the masses for “2-for-1” deals on ultra-soft toilet paper. An Asian woman was nearly trampled for a liter of Coke Zero.
Shopping carts were flipped and set afire.
Abandoned children cried for their mothers.
We narrowly escaped with our lives, but by god, we had our Evian. And after a quick stop at the airport, we also had our dog.
All that’s left at this point is finding out when we’ll get our furniture. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to my relocation consultant.
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