Friends help friends move. Real friends help friends move bodies.

richardbliss called me last night while I was digesting some delicious Thai food chalain had brought over. He asked me if I could help him move in the morning. Hey, what are friends for?

I was there for pretty much the whole time — six hours of grunt work. We took Richard and Christina’s stuff down from their TWO third-floor apartments (one for living in, and one for office space) and filled a Budget rental truck, a U-Haul trailer, a Ford Expedition, and a Ford Mustang. Those stairs were rough, and the sheer volume of material to move and load didn’t make things any easier. By the end of the move I was wiped out. Somebody hasn’t been going to the gym lately. Still, I hung in there for the whole six hours.

The most impressive part of the job was how they’d packed everything box-able into Rubbermaid tubs. There were at least 100 tubs with everything from books to bathroom supplies, and having uniformly stackable, sturdy containers WITH HANDLES made everything a LOT easier.

The Expedition is now pulling the trailer while the truck pulls another trailer with the Mustang on it, and the convoy is on its way to sunny San Diego. I’m going to miss them. Sure, we’ll keep in touch — these are the folks for whom I’m doing the “GWAVAMan” comics, so I’ll see them at BrainShare — but not having these good friends in town makes me a little sad.

(Sorry about the misleading subject line. There was no body to be moved or concealed. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.)


6 thoughts on “Friends help friends move. Real friends help friends move bodies.”

  1. Well, if there had been, at least it would be kept nice and fresh…

    Incidenty we Brits have a very bad mental image with the name “Rubbermaid”. I quite understand why they decided to call it something nice and neutral, ie tupperware, over here.
    [don’t ask, whatever you do, just don’t ask!!]

      1. Umm…
        ok this might explain some of it.

        However, there is an odd British quirk to it, in so far as we, of course, have High Tea. Picture that, serving a very English tea… With participants in varying states of undress and/or wearing ‘suitable’ outfits.

        Sort of, Miss Marples meets Rocky Horror with overtones of Caligulia.

        See what I mean?
        After you with the Mental Floss.

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