August 29, 2006
Worst New Neighbors Ever: Part II
When we last left Wenchie and Heather's Mom, Heather had left them behind to "wait for the cable guy," when, really, it was purely an act of mercy. Heather's Mom is way too fabulous to be lugging boxes, and I, well,... I'm just way too out-of-shape.
We were standing in the topsy-turvy apartment, fighting the urge to collapse [in a fit of passion] on the newly-made bed and contemplating what our next move would be.
A-HA! Decorative flair! Mais oui!
In a corner of the hallway, where there was once a teeny-tiny, three-sided closet, there is now a little display area with three well-lighted, glass shelves. And what goes better on well-lighted, glass shelves than SHOES!
Heather's extensive shoe collection was easily found among the much smaller boxes, so we picked three and, channelling our inner gay men, arranged them artfully on the shelves. Voila!
After that, I barely had time for two lengthy phone conversations before the crew was back with Heather's Fiance's stuff and it was time to start working again, this time with much less enthusiasm.
Within seconds, I was so sweaty, there wasn't even a dry spot on my shirt with which to wipe my face. So I gave up and just shook my head to send the droplets flying off like a dog (you're so turned on right now, I can tell). It was like Flashdance, but without the pole.
Of course, Heather's sinewy arms and dainty shoulders only looked MORE sexy when covered in a glistening sheen. And don't even get me started on Heather's Brother. God-DAY-UM. Red-faced and spikey-haired, he only looked hotter. Thank God Heather's Mom spilled a drop of salsa on her shirt, or you wouldn't have even known she had lifted her fabulous form off the chaise lounge that day.
God, I hate Heather's family.
Now, what happened next has never been fully explained, even by Heather. Which is doubly odd because there was no alcohol involved. (The alcohol came immediately after this incident.)
Heather shattered the top of a glass table. With her chin. While she was holding it.
Seriously, how the hell does that happen?! And the offending chin went unscathed, while her thumb suffered a deep cut that bled for the remainder of the aftenoon.
I still can't imagine how that all went down. By the time I got to the scene, Heather was picking shards of glass out of the neighbor's lawn.
She quietly muttered, "Worst. New neighbors. Ever."
I cried, "And there's the title for my blog about this!"
Comments
so, basically, my family sweats beautifully. my husband-to-be can move furniture all day without bitching, and my apartment, while full of boxes, is still fabulous.
but, as I said, we are the worst new neighbors, ever.
with glistening arms and shoulders, of course.
Posted by: heather at August 29, 2006 03:25 PM
keep in mind, miss thing helped all freakin' day with very little incentive other than, well, my undying gratitude, which she knew she had anyway, just for existing.
but either way, I love her for helping me move. there. I said it. she helped me move.
Posted by: heather at August 29, 2006 03:31 PM