Move Stuff

Just learned that the apartment I've been waiting for is available and I will be able to move on Saturday. Yup, this Saturday! I'm sure that you all know how lazy I am - so you'll understand my reluctant joy.

The joy: I want to move. I need to move. The police have been driving through my complex with an alarming regularity lately, and it's not at all comfortable for me (no I'm not a criminal on the run - I just don't like it). The new place will cost a lot less than my current spot and offers much more. There's an added bonus that I'll discuss another day since it deserves it's own post.

The reluctant part: The lazy part of me doesn't feel like packing up crap, hauling same crap to truck, unloading crap at new spot and unpacking and putting away crap. I almost want to abandon what I have and just have new crap delivered. (a fantasy since I can't afford the crap I already have and it'll be a long time before my budget allows for new)

Now some of you may not realize just how hot it can get in Georgia. Asking friends to help is asking a lot. A whole lot. Of course the sweetness in my life will help, but he's just one man, so that still leaves half of the work to me.

("scheme-scheme-plot - plot" - ever since Luda used the line, I've been itching to copy him)

How can I make the offer of helping me to move in the relentless Georgia sun sound like fun so that I only need to move the girlie stuff and the big strong men I know can do their big strong thing?

One word. Brew.

Something about the offer of an icy cold foamy beverage makes the average guy I know willing to do almost anything if that beverage is the prize. My buddies can afford (fill in expensive beverage name - I'm not that hip - what the hell is Grey Goose?) if they're in the mood, but the offer of free beer is irresistable for some reason. Possible conditioning from childhood? Beer - good. Beer - good. Beer - good.

Whatever works.

I'll be back with an update.