Moving up

So I moved yesterday. One of the moving men was VERY cute. And he had a tattoo. Oh, I wanted to screw him so badly. I really want a boyfriend. Or just casual sex would do. Heck, I'd settle for making out in the back seat of a Ford Pinto at this point.

It took them under an hour to load up the stuff from my old apartment and two hours to haul it all up the stairs to the new apartment. I unpacked for a while, waited for the cable guy, who was an idiot and left without giving me my cable box. I called Comcast, who promised to send someone out but turned out to be lying. Then I went to work at the paper but decided to come home and take a nap instead. Finally got back to work at 9 p.m. and didn't get home until 4 a.m.

This was all followed up by an 8-5:30 p.m. day in the lovely retail halls of Wal-Mart. The store manager noticed my efforts in the luggage aisle though. She asked "XXXXXX, what did we hire you for, cashier?" "Yes," I replied, "but I've done just about everything else but that." She laughed and said "I know, because I've seen you everywhere." I said "Thank you and kept on going with my pallet jack and huge load of shelves." Yes, I was moving shelves around. Of course, this was on time-and-a-half overtime, so I didn't really care what I was doing.