Moving Sucks!

I'm trying to settle into Darryl's apartment after a frustrating day of packing and moving. I would have packed in the days before but most of my time was taken up by the simpletons at the Goodwill job center. I would have asked for Friday off but they need a letter with an offical letterhead excusing me from their bullshit. I suppose I could have done it after my job search. Oh, that's right, another reason I didn't go to the apartment to pack was I didn't want to see Leslie's bony ass. Unsure of what time his friend Darryl (yes, that's originality for you) was bringing the truck by I decided to stay up to pack. I mean why not, it was only one room of stuff how long could it possible take? I wasn't done packing until 10 am! You never realize how much shit you own until you have to move. By then Darryl finally found out what time his friend, Darryl was bringing the truck by. That time was 4 pm. So I went over to Von's house to feed and walk his Shih Tzu while he was on holiday in the Cayman's beating his addiction to crack. I was lucky to even find a lightbulb too see in that hovel. Thing about crackheads is that they make practical yet unimaginable interior decorators. His cousin Carl aka English is too self-involved to bring his ass over to the apartment to bring the dog over to his place in Far Rockaway. Afterwords I went back to prepare for the move. Leslie absence was influencial because he left early in the morning so I could get my work done. Darryl took a car service from his place to mine in order to help me pack when the truck arrives. Both of us were painfully aware of the fact that Leslie would be arriving from work very soon. In fact, the only words Leslie had for me were about the money he would receiving from HRA for the rent and where to forward my mail. He was sooo concerned for my personal financial well-being despite the fact that he was evicting me. The douchebag-for-brains was aware of the fact that the money sent to him is for the September's rent and any arrears. So stupid is he that he was unaware of the fact that there was a check from HRA for $430 presently sitting in his mail box. Darryl's friend, Darryl, called to say he was unaware that he needed a second form of I.d. to rent the truck from U-haul. Just another sign of a post 9/11 society, thanks alot Muhammad! So, he was going to be late. Well, Darryl and I waited and waited. Finally, 6pm his friend showed up. We immediately went to work. Once he had the first load packed Darryl and I realized that once I got to the apartment I needed to get myself dressed for my show, Happy Hour. It was my cast's final night performing together and I needed to be out by 8pm. Darryl said he and his friend would finish moving the rest of my belongings. I scrambled about, getting myself together. Stepping over Smokey, Darryl's cat who was dying on the bathroom floor. Why they always choose to die there I will never know. He was barely responsive when I stepped over him to take my shower. 20 minutes later I was on my way to catch the Q train into Manhattan but not before thanking both Darryls for their help. After the show, my castmembers commented on my ass, saying they didn't know that I was going to do such a thing. That's part of the fun of show business, I love to keep them guessing. This white girl who was nice but a little annoying kept going on about dogs and someothershit I could barely understand. I guess she wanted to get some black meat before she went back to Minnesota. It was 5am before I got back to Brooklyn and Darryl's place. He was still awake and all of my stuff filled the living room. Smokey was still immobile, wet and on the bathroom floor. I pet him to comfort him for the very last time. He barely responded by tilting his head which seemed too heavy to lift to look at my hand. Deeply depressed I retired to bed knowing full well what the next day would bring.