A painting of me

A Moving Night With Steph and Friends

    1 March 2007, terribly early in the morning

Being the scrawniest of all my friends, every single time I’ve had to move I really end up doing the least work. I’ll warn my friend Dave or Mezan that a box is heavy, and they’ll look at me like I’m an idiot and lug it away. (That’s when I have boxes, I have a bad habit of not packing properly.) I think yesterday was some sort of karmic readjustment: I helped my friend Steph move last night.

I arrived at 8:00 at Steph’s new place — I was part of the B Team, the A Team had shuttled her stuff from North York to the City. Steph, who is moving into a 400 sq foot apartment, had three cars and a vans worth of stuff. And as I soon found out, that was just the first round of stuff. Her apartment in North York still wasn’t empty. Moving this first batch of stuff wasn’t so bad, there were a lot of us helping out. However, not wanting to monopolize all of her friends’ time, she sent Jeff, Jessica, and Michelle home, leaving me and Monica to move the last wave of stuff — Monica who is skinny like me.

Moving the second wave was a battle, made worse by our forgetting to bring the dolly uptown. We parked her van diagonally in something that probably wasn’t a parking spot, turned on the flashes, and began several trips up and down the building with boxes of stuff. What’s crazy, is that we filled up a vans worth of stuff, and her apartment still wasn’t empty.

We sucked Shima into helping us unload this second wave. With the dolly and a shopping card we found in her building, it wasn’t too much trouble. It was at this point I left for the night. Steph and Monica went to get dinner. It was midnight.

I wouldn’t call the night fun, but I can say it was an experience.



  1. Rubbermaid containers are your friends.

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