Thursday, August 28, 2008
I posted about this issue already.
I moved from the county several months ago, as I could not put my children's future on the line. But what about those who can not move. They aren't sure what will happen to seniors this year. Imagine having gone to school for twelve years and finding out that your diploma is worthless. Those poor kids!
Well, on my way to Dragoncon. If you'll be there, look me up.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
So, I helped my mother move yesterday. She was at work and couldn’t get off, so the only people there were myself, and my two sisters. My mom moves a lot. A lot. She doesn’t like to stay in one place too long, so about every two years she gets the itch, and I know I’ll be getting a call telling me she’s found the most amazing place. And they always are.
The only bad thing is that I have to help her move. I hate this. I think this is why I tend to stay in one place; because I’ve moved some many times in my life as a child.
My mother didn’t have any boys, so it has long been left up to my sisters and I to move her. Why not hire someone? Well, why do that when you have several young, capable women to do it for you—for free?
Anyhoo, my sisters and I had four hours to load and unload the truck and get it back. We packed everything we could on the truck. Several very heavy sofas, beds, mattresses, massive bookshelves, washer and dryer, deep freezer and lots and lots of other things. And did I mention that my mother lived up two flights of stairs?
We are formidable women, I tell ya.
So we drive the truck (a large U-Haul type thing) to the new house. The problem is my mom decided to move into the house from hell. Well the house itself is fine. It’s just getting there from the road that makes it hell. The driveway leading to the house is barely wide enough for a Buick mush less the tank we were driving. It’s shared with a neighbor whose house sits directly in front of my mother’s. The driveway itself is at a sharp incline and drops off on both sides into deep ditches. If you can’t imagine it, just think of a big U-Haul tumbling into a ravine and you pretty much got it. The imagery worked for me.
When we got there, the wonderful neighbors, who inhabit the house in front of my mother’s, had placed a garbage can, riding toy and a huge basketball goal in the driveway. He walked out of the house, shirtless, checked his mail and went back inside. My sister was driving and after pulling in, we decided she would have to come out, back the truck in, while dodging the uneven, hilly driveway and ditches.
I called to the shirtless fellow through his open screen-less window to please move his basketball goal while I moved his trashcan and child toy myself. He quickly agreed and we continued on.
My youngest sister and I directed my other sister into the drive, telling her which way to turn the wheel and if she needed to straighten out and start again. As she was backing in, the shirtless neighbor walked out, put his hand on my back, began laughing and said something inaudible.
I looked at him and smiled until I realized what he’d said.
“I wondered what the problem was,” he said, “until I realized it was a woman driving.”
I stared at him for a moment and then at my sister who looked like she could have killed him. I have no doubt she could have taken him.
He continued staring at me earnestly, as I replied. “I know, but it could be worse. We could have a man driving.”
The smile quickly faded from his face and he looked as if I had said the rudest thing in the world to him. He walked back into his house, staring back at us every couple of feet. I think he was really upset that I’d dare say that to him.
My sister said from the truck, “I can’t believe that asshole.”
Personally, I found it amusing. On the one hand he thought we were nothing but pitiful girls who couldn’t do anything. But he didn’t bother to offer any assistance. Not that we would have accepted, but if he’s such a fabulous man—better than any woman—isn’t that the manly thing to do when you see a women you think needs assisting? So what kind of man does that make him? Also, in what world does he live in that it’s completely acceptable to walk up to someone, insult them and expect them to giggle like silly little children.
(side note: seeing him there laughing like an idiot, I could just imagine the slurs that would have come out of his mouth fifty years ago—hell, twenty years ago.)
Also the fact that he thought it was fine to touch me was just strange. Infringing on my space was rude and creepy.
My sister got the truck into the narrow driveway with little effort and we girls unloaded the truck. Sofas, beds, mattresses, massive bookshelves, washer and dryer, deep freezer and lots and lots of other things.
The creepy, shirtless neighbor watched from his screen-less window.
When we left, we waved goodbye to him. He didn’t wave back. I’m sure my mom will be glad we’re making new friends for her already.
I’m aching like hell right now. But, damn, do I feel good.