First silly thing that I did was after my friends and I had unpacked my furniture from the U-haul I had to take the emptry truck back. And of course, I didn’t have an expressway pass on me so I had no choice but to take the slow route back through local roads.
And since all my dumb luck tends to pile up at once, the one road I wanted to take is closed and I had to take an alternative route that I’m only sort of familiar with. I know it’ll get me where I want to go but I can’t quite picture what’s on that street.
The back story here is that I’ve moved a little closer to a ritzier side of town. A side of town where they all wear Polo’s, khaki’s, and belong to yacht clubs. Mind you, I’m closer to it, I don’t actually live in it.
Anyway, I turn this big, honkin’ U-haul down the road I have driven before in my car, but don’t really realize how much bigger this stupid rental truck is than my car. And of course, as I turn I remember it’s a two lane road right smack through the middle of a hoity little shopping district. And of course this is the Sunday with what can only be described as the world’s preppiest farmer’s market. It’s a quaint little town center with shops like Anthropologie and Williams-Sonoma.
Yup. Families in their Polo’s out walking their extremely well groomed dogs and children all turn to see who the moron is driving this monstrosity down their farmer’s market. I imagine some of them started thinking, “A U-haul? Who doesn’t have movers? There goes the neighborhood.”
Second silly thing. This doesn’t involve the possible murder. We’ll get to that soon.
I really like my new apartment as it features all things a big girl needs: washer/dryer, dishwasher, indoor plumbing, etc. I finally have all the amenities by myself that I couldn’t afford at age 24 living in a one-room, wall unit A/C, shit hole. Thus, I’m super stoked at the end of my work day on Monday to be driving home and thinking about what I’ll whip up for dinner in my new big girl apartment.
Rice and beans, or maybe some soup. Mmm mmm! My dinner will be so yummy!
I walk in and change into my post work chillaxin’ clothes (AKA some form of old ass running tee and soffee cheer shorts I’ve had since ’99). I make my way to the kitchen, mouth watering for din-din. I pull out the food items and low and behold! I have no microwave.
Fail. (I will be getting one this weekend, not to worry.)
And thirdly, this is really just about being paranoid safe.
On the Friday of my move I had scheduled the cable guy to come set up my internet and cable box. This cable guy was a no call, no show, so I had to reschedule for Saturday. Side note: Are all cable companies like this everywhere?
Saturday arrives and cable guy shows up a little early and begins to set up cable and such. As he is installing it he starts making small talk. And asking questions. Questions like, “So when do you move your furniture in?” and “Oh so then you aren’t staying here tonight?” and “I see your friend on facebook has a bike.” (That would be KC since I was updating her facebook status during her Ironman.)
Now I’m sure that a man would just think, “Whatever. Dude is bored so he’s talking to me.” I am not a dude. I am thinking, “Oh dear God! This man is going to come back and steal all of my shit! Or he’s going to come back steal all of my shit and murder me! Or he’s going to just murder me and say man this chick has a lot of dumb shit!”
He leaves and I lock the hell out of everything and block the doors with random shoes and boxes and stuff I’ve yet to hang or unpack. And tell Lloyd he must stop being mildly deaf for the rest of the evening.
The next two days nothing happens and I relax and realize that I am just a paranoid freak. Hahaha. Silly paranoid girl. Nothing to see here. Until…last night.
I’m on my way to my new run when I get a call from CABLE GUY!
He says, “Hi. Is this the woman at blank-blank-blank address that I installed cable box for on Saturday?”
“Oh ok, well I forgot to take a sticker with the serial number off the cable box and I need it. Can you give me that number?”
Stammering. “Uh, uhm. Well, I’m not home right now and won’t be for a bit.” (Inner monologue – SHIT YOU MORON! WAY TO TELL HIM YOU AREN’T HOME! AND THEN HE’LL KNOW WHEN YOU ARE!
“Ok, well you can just call me or text it when you do get home.” (Perceived sinister sneer through phone.)
In the next 20 minutes it takes me to get to my run location I rehearse how my death will go and how no one will know the cable guy murdered me because I didn’t tell anyone about this entire situation. I can’t call my sister cause I don’t want her to panic if in fact it’s nothing and I’m being my typical paranoid self. Too much crime TV, I admit it.
I get to my run and explain this situation to a male friend. He decides that he’ll just call the cable guy for me. Well, that’s a relief. Stupid cable guy will think I live with a big, scary dude with many weapons. Of course he can tell all of that by my friend’s voice. Duh.
I get home and text all of the information to my friend who then calls and texts cable guy. Get this – no response. Cable guy does not respond and this leads me to believe cable guy is on to me and will most certainly be arriving in the dead of night to kill me and take my stuff. Or just kill me and pet Lloyd. (Lloyd never gets murdered in my paranoid imaginations cause he’s just way too cute and friendly.)
I again go into super lock machine mode and barricade the doors with random boxes and objects that will be loud if someone enters. Lloyd and I have a talk where I beg him to stop sleeping so damn deeply and be a dog who actually hears it when murderers enter our dwelling.
Upon waking I get a text that murderous cable guy got the information and said thank you. I also got a customer service call from the cable company checking in to make sure everything was good with my service and why yes they did see he needed the number and it was noted on my account.
Heh. Don’t I feel sheepish? But hooray! Am not getting murdered after all.
The moral of all of this is…moving sucks.
Have a great weekend!