Roads, Mills, Laps

There’s no better feeling in the world–perhaps, at this juncture in my life–than giving my McYenta neighbor a fake “happy” wave and driving off with a truck full of my possessions, bound for my new home: Bohemia.

I signed the papers, handed the keys over, and shook the hands.

It’s done.
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If you live in the greater Philly area and need to move locally, you have to use these guys for your move. They are fantastic (and cheap!).

My crew yesterday was made up of a painter and two musicians. Two of them were fascinated with all my insane possessions–my oddball, eclectic mix of crap; my World War 1 Enfield .303 rifle (dated 1917; in time to be carried and subsequently dropped at Paschendaele?) complete with foot-long, blood guttered Kraut-poking bayonet; my one hundred and fifty thousand books about everything from U.S. Grant to oceanic sailing (well they weren’t too thrilled moving them, actually); my kitsch, my gimcrack, my shitty art–all of it, all of THAT.

They loved the old newspaper that I found stuck in one of the walls of my new attic. It was from 1943–back when our country was in a tough, uncertain part of World War 2. We read the comics from it during our lunch break (Dick Tracy); we stared in wonder at the advertisements showing dapper, pipe-smoking gentlemen wearing double-breasted suits and Betty Grable-looking, fur coat-clad ladies We agreed when we saw the movie ads for Frankenstein and the Wolfman and noted the wonderfully written articles (using SAT words) in font size 8: Our country has changed.

This entry was posted on Friday, August 3rd, 2007 at 12:52 pm and is filed under McWorld. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.