Movin' on up
I am moving out of my apartment, my studio in the TenderNob. This is more than just an apartment; it is also the premise for half of my act. Am I going to change my act? Heyyeelll no. Just because I'm moving out doesn't mean I have to leave the comedy gold behind. That was not in the lease. No, I'm taking that with me.
I'm only moving three blocks, but it's a definite upgrade for me. The new place is bigger, brighter. And it's across the street from both a liquor store and a hospital. (I wish I had a $10 co-pay set up with the liquor store.)
I'm hiring movers to move my stuff. I don't have much, so I could probably have done it on my own with some help. But: 1) moving a small apartment 3 blocks isn't that expensive; and 2) I'm a grown-ass man now. I just can't do the whole "rent a truck and a dolly and co-opt your friends and make them hate you for it" thing.
I just don't want to do it anymore. Asking friends to help you move is big. It's a big boundary to cross. It's a big, awkward imposition. It's better than giving them herpes, but not by a lot.
You might think I'm exagerrating. But if you've ever had the pleasure of trying to get a sofabed down three flights of winding stairs into a truck parked on a hill, and then back out of a truck and back up three flights of winding stairs, you're probably thinking, "how bad could herpes be?"
Labels: moving herpes sofabed