Aw, Shit (The Redux)

Almost 2 years ago my company punted a few of our departments across the road to an overflow office until they could sort out a more permanent solution. As of tomorrow, we move back across the street into our new digs. Most of us are excited about being reunited with everyone else because while a good ball player could probably toss a ball between the two buildings, we might as well be in Siberia. Inter-company communication is laughable under the best of circumstances. One only needs to look to Dilbert for confirmation of this.

Somehow, probably because baby Jesus hates me, I ended up being a move captain. I figure this is what happens when you make “Stop being such an asshole to everyone” one of your New Year’s Resolutions. Do you have any idea how hard it is to be nice to people while you’re coaxing them through the ins and outs of …packing your desk? It also means that I get the thrilling opportunity to work late while everyone else gets to leave early so they can *cough, cough* WORK FROM HOME. Of course with the Haber’s on vacation, this leaves me childcareless. Not a real word, but whatever. Obviously, I called my newly retired mom and asked her to fill in for me.

“Filling in” also means, “Come move into my tiny cramped apartment for two days.”

The only glitch to my otherwise PERFECT plan is snow and the fact that my mom doesn’t like to drive anywhere if there aren’t palm trees and a nice ocean breeze. Of course we don’t actually HAVE any snow but my mother says WE MIGHT. So yeah, glitch. Yesterday I phoned her and suggested she come down a day early. She hemmed and hawed a little bit so I figured that suggestion was dead in the water. Then today, she emailed and said, “Hey your dad had this great idea! Why don’t I come down a day early?”

“Sure, mom” I deadpanned. “That’s a great idea.”

So yeah. This post is just to say my mom is now on the road, in route to my place and I’m 99% certain that I’ve left scads of personal shit lying everywhere. It would appear that I have no choice but to hide in my mental cave and assume the fetal position.

Also? Can anyone get me a lead on some sort of kitschy placard that reads: Don’t look for shit you can’t handle finding. And also, please ignore the dirty dishes in the sink.