02_09_28

splat

This will probably be the last entry before we move on Monday morning. Tomorrow, Joe and I are dismantling our computers and driving them to the apartment downtown, because we're neurotic and don't trust the movers to move anything of ours that costs over $100 and is vaguely breakable. (They are very cheap movers.) I'm not sure when I'll next be able to update, but if you don't hear from me for a few days, please trust that I am still alive, and not pinned under some moving truck somewhere.

Speaking of pinned under a moving truck, I heard a funny story from someone who recently moved into our building. Apprently, she and her partner used to own an Italian Greyhound. Used to. In case you're not familiar with the breed, Italian Greyhounds are miniature versions of the full-sized "normal" Greyhounds, which, if you can picture it, makes them extremely small, spindly little dogs. They have skinny little straw legs and don't walk, rather prance, like tiny reindeer.

But I digress. The point of the story was that this woman had an Italian Greyhound, and while they moved into their new apartment, a box or piece of furniture tipped over onto the animal, killing it instantly.

Hey, I love dogs and everything, but for some reason, I had to laugh when I heard that story. Maybe because I was hearing it second-hand and the dog's owner wasn't right there. Maybe because I hate those sissy-ass toy dogs. Maybe the thought of that spindly little spider dog getting crushed by a dining room table, like in a cartoon, was just too funny an image. Maybe because I'm evil.

Anyway, I hope we don't have quite as lurid a story to tell after our move. But you never know.

Michelle

Countdown: 34.5 hours until the move