I'm a fucking idiot sometimes, at least when it comes to Adult Life Functioning.
(So well graphed by Hyperbole & a Half -- go read after you finish this.)
So, I moved from Vancouver Island to actual Vancouver, BC on Saturday (yeah, wrap your head around THAT one... there's a Vancouver WA too). Everything went smoothly! The traffic was perfect, there was no delay at the ferry, my apartment was ready... etc. Except that for me, nothing can ever be perfect, so something disastrous had to happen. About five minutes after the movers left, I decided the most important thing to do was run to the grocery store and buy toilet paper & wine. Because what else do you need to unpack?!?! Great idea, until I try to find my keys. Not in the kitchen, not in the living room, not in the bedroom, not in my bag... So I try to think where I usually put my keys... in my pocket! But they're not in my pants, so they must be in hoodie... except now I can't find my hoodie. Finally I remembered dumping it on my bed when I got hot carrying boxes up two flights of stairs, which would solve everything except that there is NOTHING on my bed!
Eventual realization: the movers must have grabbed the hoodie thinking it was one of theirs. Oh, fuck fuckity fuck. This really sucks because the only contact number I have for them is a home landline, back on the island. So I leave a message and my patient new building manager scrounges up a key to the front door of the building and one to the laundry room. No such luck with my mailbox... or my apartment.
The movers eventually noticed themselves that they were now the custodians of a strange black hoodie with keys in the pocket and called me before they got home. Of course, it wasn't until they were off the ferry on a different landmass, but at least they found it! I gave my address to the head mover and he promised to courier it all back ASAP.
He said it was supposed to be here Wednesday... it's Friday.
But while sitting around my apartment waiting, bored, I've been changing my address and applying for jobs and all that boring stuff. One of the things I had to do was open an account with BC Hydro, which I finally got around to this morning. When giving my address, I said "like the university" to describe my street, which thoroughly confused the customer service guy, because it's actually NOT like the university I was alluding to because I'm an idiot and I make things up. I don't want to give away the name of my street but basically I was trying to tell him that I lived on "Farvard St" like "Farvard University." Neither of which, clearly, exist at all.
You know those "Oh. SHIT." moments when everything becomes clear? Yeah. That happened. Head, meet desk. Face, meet palm.
I'm so not looking forward to the mover's returning my voicemail message...
(So well graphed by Hyperbole & a Half -- go read after you finish this.)
So, I moved from Vancouver Island to actual Vancouver, BC on Saturday (yeah, wrap your head around THAT one... there's a Vancouver WA too). Everything went smoothly! The traffic was perfect, there was no delay at the ferry, my apartment was ready... etc. Except that for me, nothing can ever be perfect, so something disastrous had to happen. About five minutes after the movers left, I decided the most important thing to do was run to the grocery store and buy toilet paper & wine. Because what else do you need to unpack?!?! Great idea, until I try to find my keys. Not in the kitchen, not in the living room, not in the bedroom, not in my bag... So I try to think where I usually put my keys... in my pocket! But they're not in my pants, so they must be in hoodie... except now I can't find my hoodie. Finally I remembered dumping it on my bed when I got hot carrying boxes up two flights of stairs, which would solve everything except that there is NOTHING on my bed!
Eventual realization: the movers must have grabbed the hoodie thinking it was one of theirs. Oh, fuck fuckity fuck. This really sucks because the only contact number I have for them is a home landline, back on the island. So I leave a message and my patient new building manager scrounges up a key to the front door of the building and one to the laundry room. No such luck with my mailbox... or my apartment.
The movers eventually noticed themselves that they were now the custodians of a strange black hoodie with keys in the pocket and called me before they got home. Of course, it wasn't until they were off the ferry on a different landmass, but at least they found it! I gave my address to the head mover and he promised to courier it all back ASAP.
He said it was supposed to be here Wednesday... it's Friday.
But while sitting around my apartment waiting, bored, I've been changing my address and applying for jobs and all that boring stuff. One of the things I had to do was open an account with BC Hydro, which I finally got around to this morning. When giving my address, I said "like the university" to describe my street, which thoroughly confused the customer service guy, because it's actually NOT like the university I was alluding to because I'm an idiot and I make things up. I don't want to give away the name of my street but basically I was trying to tell him that I lived on "Farvard St" like "Farvard University." Neither of which, clearly, exist at all.
You know those "Oh. SHIT." moments when everything becomes clear? Yeah. That happened. Head, meet desk. Face, meet palm.
I'm so not looking forward to the mover's returning my voicemail message...
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I'm also still in the process of putting my life together after a big move. Fun, crazy, annoying, and tedious at the same time. I wish you the best of luck. Things have an odd habit of working out if we try long enough.