Remember Bingo Pajama

All right, let’s back as much information into the next 20 minutes or so as my little fingers will allow for.  A chronology, as best as I can place it:

/root

So, we’re homeowners.  Well, that is to say, we’ve 10% equity in a house.  Slaves to the mortgage, really.  We got the keys at the end of May after a long fought battle with some other jackass.  Since then, our weekends and evenings have consisted heavily of painting, cleaning and yard-work.  The first week or so with the keys we had a myriad of helpers with the paint (too many to give their appropriate shout-outs here).  It took around 10 people about 10 days to finish painting three rooms and all of the house’s common areas.  The bedrooms and bathrooms remain unpainted and in moderate shape.  Honestly, I don’t even see nail-holes anymore.  If you want to come by for the tour or have gone by our previous domicile in Hilliard, knocked on the door and been greeted by strangers, let me know and we’ll give you the ten-cent tour.  The address, if you’re curious, is accessible if I also happen to be stalking you on Facebook.  There are couple of lesser-interesting stories from the move and re-renovation of the house, but the most interesting occurred the morning of the big move…

Where Ever U-Are, That’s Where U-Haul

Having had the keys to the house for a little over a week before finally vacating our apartment, many of our smaller knick-knacks and personal belongings had already been moved into the house’s basement.  The only things remaining in the apartment were the big ticket items that we’d need a moving truck for but would only take a morning to move.  We awoke then, the morning of May 31st to pick-up the U-Haul moving truck that Shannon had reserved for us.  We were in the trusty Accord, in the apartment parking lot, motor running, before realizing that we did not have the address of the vendor in question; only that it was on Broad St.  Trusty iPhone the first (that story later) in hand, I was began a search for U-Hauls on Broad St only to discover that there were several.

“I think there’s a 12 or 14 in the address,” said Shannon.
“Well, there’s a U-Haul on 1428 W Broad St, ” I replied.
“I’m going to get the paper I wrote everything down on.”
“Yeah, you do that.”

And back into the apartment she scurried and quickly returned with parchment in hand.

“6612 W Broad St,” she recited.
“Well, that has a 12 in it.  All right.  Let’s punch that into Google Maps and get directions.”

And off we went.  The 6000 block of W Broad St, in case you are wondering, is actually just outside the outer-belt, a little bit to the west of Rome-Hilliard Rd.  Our apartment practically on said road, our trip was easy.  We soon arrived at the street corner marked by the maps little red pin and gazed upon this.  It is, by appearances, a U-Haul vendor.  But, the parking lot was completely lacking in the particular size of moving truck that we had reserved.

“Let me see that note,” I asked, my puzzlement bordering on alarm.
“Here,” said Shannon as she forfeited the scrap of paper.

The hand-written note contained pricing, sizing and pickup information as well as the phone-number and address where our beloved truck could be picked-up.  I print that information below in as close to a re-creation of that format as this medium will allow for.

614 478
6612
1428 Broad St

Imagine however, the “1428” printed so far to the left of the street name that when glanced at vertically, quickly, the address reads “6612 Broad St”.  So, you see, we confused the last four digits of the phone number as the street address… and ended up at a U-Haul.

I don’t know if the gravity of this mistake will hit you, as it hit us.  Let me re-iterate: we, with the intention of going to a U-Haul, essentially punched in a complete fucking random address into Google Maps and arrived at a goddammed U-Haul.  I challenge anyone to try to re-create this phenomenon with any commercial establishment and have it succeed so spectacularly.  Easy Mode: Starbucks, Hard Mode: White Castle, Legendary Mode: In-and-Out Burger.

We arrived at U-Haul-actual a little late.

Beantown

I was sent out on another installation this past Sunday-Tuesday in lovely Boston, Masturchewsets.  The details of the installation itself are only of mild interest; I’ll mention only that on my departure from the customer’s facilities I realized that they seemingly specialized only in research regarding erectile dysfunction.  So, there’s that.

Monday evening, I met up with Grove City’s own India for a few hours of wandering Boston and stuffing our faces with whatever fare the city had to offer.  Pretty good Greek food, even better genuine guinea baked goods.  Apparently the Monday I was in town was the only non-rainy day in Boston for three weeks.  Not one person thanked me.

The Rest

The rest of the last couple of months saw the following, which, while possibly interesting, I won’t be dedicating more details than I could fit into a tweet:

  • The beginning of June marked 9 years of time spent with the Mrs.  I could swear it only feels like 8.
  • Concerts! Manchester Orchestra, Nightmare of You.  The former out-performed the latter.
  • I know I got pretty blackout drunk one night. I was told I crashed in bed with my Aunt-in-Law. I was skeptical, until pictures emerged.
  • After a wonderful 2 years with my trusty 1st-gen iPhone, I bit the bullet and upgraded to a 32gb 3GS. I regret nothing less.

That might be it for now.  Only with persistent harping will you find me updating this thing more frequently.  Harp away.

Ha ha ho ho and hee hee.