It's Time.

(September 02, 2006)

Just when I think my Peapod guy is never going to get through, the colossal snarl of mass confusion out in front of our apartment loosens and, like all the matted hair and soap scum and other detritus that backs up behind a nasty blockage in a clogged drain, the line of vehicles moves on past.

The nasty blockage? A U-Haul truck, broken down, half-hitched to a tow truck, the whole shebang parked diagonally across the road. The Drano that clears it up? A very tense, heavily-stressed tow truck driver who was working as fast as he could under a barrage of car horns and expletives from the line of Frustration behind him. Even though his tow truck and it's dead parasite was the blockage, another guy -- bald, fat and unfortunately-Neon-green-tank-top clad driver of a massive, hulking trash compactor -- had stepped forth onto the street and was yelling "What do you want me to do!?" every time another driver honked. Fella, they aren't honking at you. He must be one of those people who get jazzed up by conflict and try to make themselves part of it so that they have a story to tell. I can imagine him at home tonight, with his KFC and Buds, regaling his wife and kids with how he almost had to kick the asses of a whole line of losahs in cahs on Cawm Ave.

When the tow truck driver finally manages to get the dead U-Haul hooked up and Hauled the hell outta here, the passing line of vehicles includes a bunch of other U-Hauls, and Budget, and pick-up trucks laboring under towering stacks of Tetris'ed furniture, precariously roped down. A Comcast van. An RCN van. Jordan's Furniture truck. And one SUV with a mattress on top and a hand extending from out of each window holding it. A cop car that, I hope, eventually stops the mattress-holders before they fucking kill someone.

The students. Are Back. In Boston.

That was about an hour ago; it's a lot quieter now.

Now the Peapod guy can get through. Which is awesome because he has eggs with him and I'd like to cook some now. He should be here within the hour. Mmm, tomato and basil omelette, come to Mama.