So my girlfriend and I have this vintage refrigerator. It's a pain in my ass and it's not unlike a room mate who doesn't pay rent and just takes up space. Anyway, we have no use for it and have to sell it, although that hasn't been easy. Today the lease on our old apartment expires and I have to move it from there to our new apartment. So my plans for the evening involve schlumping my way up to 23rd street, renting a dolli, walking it down to 10th street, moving a 500 lb fridge down one flight of stairs and then to my new place. People, please pray for me. Getting that hunk of metal into the apartment the first time nearly killed my friend Jason, and I don't mean in the "I'm so exhausted kind of way," I mean it in the "it-almost-fell-down- a-flight-of -stairs-and-squashed-my-bro" kind of way. So while the rest of NYC is watching "The Office" I'll be pulling my back out.
2 comments:
One time, years and years ago in a town called Loganville, Donnie Hugh Adkinson and I were fooling ourselves into believing that we were going to rent a house together in the aforementioned town. My father, being that he is and has been a refrigerator repair man for years came across a fridge a lot like this. The second Donnie and I saw it in the back of his pick up truck we wanted to put it in this imaginary house we were renting. As you know it is to heavy to move alone, even if you are a grown ass refrigerator repair man like Fayette. One day he asked me to help him move it out of his truck, when I finally went outside an hour later my father, his truck and the refrigerator were gone. The story goes, he got tired of waiting and went driving around until it fell out the back of the truck and crashed into thousands of pieces on to the open road.
What the hell were you doing in the house for a whole hour? Fayette did the right thing!
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