Moving Sucks

Seriously. I cannot think of an activity I loathe more than moving. Well maybe preparing for a move but it's really all the same. I think the act of moving is a Hellenist's worst version of hell; far more terrible than Sisyphus rolling that goddamned rock. Today, my body is in complete breakdown and I consider myself a fairly "in shape" person. I run, I lift, I play sports (is softball a sport?) but none of that prepares the body for the excruciating physical toll of moving. At least athletics mimic real life so the motions one goes through are built into the Grand Human Physiological Plan. But not moving. Nope. Man is not meant to lift, bend, and shuffle like that for six hours. The irony is that I was too exhausted to even sleep last night so I spent most of it lying in bed, muscles throbbing, calculating how many hours it was going to take me to unpack and set up the new joint. The outlook is bleak...

On the bright side of things I finally have a place of my own and I've inched even closer to The Distrcit. When my folks came by to check out the new place my mom exclaimed, "it's so young around here." As in, look at all of these single twenty- and thirty-somethings wandering around. Exactly. By the time several young ladies in mini-skirts had sauntered past the entrance to my building my dad finally realized why I was so incredulous when he suggested I am too old to be "pissing away money on rent" and should instead buy a condo in Loudoun County. Perhaps it is a bit myopic of me to be "investing" in my social life rather than a mortgage and The Future. But I have the rest of my life to be old and eventually move out to the exburbs and die. I'll settle for "living in the now" a little while longer.