Tuesdays With Noirrie

No, no. Let US do it. Really.

Whew! My sister bought a new house. As is the tradition in our family, on moving day, we all show up with our varied and sundry vehicles, start grabbing crap left and right, shoving it in, and hauling it to the new place. We did this for Deb on Saturday. We had quite a crew and quite a fleet of vehicles. The view from above would have greatly resembled an ant hill when there's a nice pile of crumbs nearby with the industrious back-and-forth trekking. We were a well-oiled machine.

Well ... most of us.

Deb's husband is not a born worker-bee. In fact, work puts him into a seriously bad mood. Work sends him into a tail-spin. Work blows his circuits to the degree that, for the most part, he stood around and watched the rest of us do it. We all made a mighty effort to ignore this. But it was hard. Damned hard. Especially when:

a) He would bitch us out that we weren't doing it properly.

b) He loaded the washing machine onto the dolly then instructed my 110-lb. niece to wheel it outside. He did generously offer to hold the door for her, though.

c) He stood in the doorway of the new house watching all the rest of us tromp back and forth with our boxes.

d) Those various and sundry times he was spotted sitting in his recliner while the rest of us continued to work.

e) After watching Steve and Jacob unload a cabinet cursed them out for laying it on its side.

f) After being asked where he wanted the TV, he shouted, "Take it in the F**KING HOUSE!"

I could go on but I would run out of letters and you probably get the idea anyway. I'm glad Deb got this incredibly awesome new house. I'm glad we were able to help her. I'm glad it's done. And, God forbid she ever moves again, she'd better be prepared to send that SOB away, or she'll have a mutiny on her hands.