s e v e n i s a j o u r n e y

Ok, first of all, no Chris, because he’s working tonight at the Lighthouse (remember that cool cinema ?). Second, recall we did veilwork in class last night, ergo, low arm juice. (Parents, do your daughters a favor and encourage them to do the same sorts of upper body strength building activities boys do, during their formative years, when it will make a difference. Let them climb trees and swing on monkey bars and play kendo or whatever.)

Right, so everything that I need to get to tonight — the futon frame, and the bits of Stephen’s desk primarily — are buried at the absolute farthest backest corner of the garage. A survey expedition Sunday revealed that the bureau is blocking any access to this corner from the front of the garage. That leaves the sneaky route along the back wall, where the removal of the anvil stand and the big red rolling tool chest (and all of the things stacked on top of and around them) looked like it would clear a narrow alley between the big brown Fogg cabinet and the back wall.

This it did.

However.

The pieces I wanted were still behind a small stack of items made up of one of the many bags of armor, a coleman cooler (aside: they call them “chilly bins” here) full of, of all things, folded up air mattresses, and (upsidedown, at a rakish angle) The Chair.

Y’all remember Stephen’s chair ? The one that only Stephen could sit in because it would try to tip you over backwards, and y’all were wondering why he was bringing it to the other side of the planet, but he insisted that he liked it ? Well, Stephen’s affection aside, it seems clear to me that that chair came to NZ in large part to help me work off some of my accumulated bad karma (clearly, I had some).

Because, you see, The Chair is too wide to fit down the little narrow alley behind the cabinet.

Once the armor and the cooler and the two little unfinished poplar tables (with the stool still taped inside), and the little rugs and leather and etc. and etc. were out of the way, I could safely set The Chair upright on the floor, where it no longer threatened to fall and break something (or me). However, this still left it squarely in front of the pieces of futon frame, which were far too heavy for me to lift over it. To get them out, I’d have to make more space in that back corner to push The Chair out of the way.

What else is in that back corner, that I can move to make room for The Chair, to make room to get out the futon bits ? Why, the massive stack of particle board ! (That would be the thing the TV and stereo were on, all of the shelving out of the basement, assorted bookcases, Stephen’s desk (huzzah !), the workbench (plain pine), bits of the dining room table (also pine), and all of the flat pieces of my desk, which is *not* made out of particle board, but is in fact made out of neutron star material.)

All of this would have to be shifted, piece by piece, down the little alley and into a new stack along a newly cleared bit of wall in my bedroom. *And*, of course, it too was all trapped behind The Chair. Which means that I had to lift every single one of those pieces of particle board (and neutron star material) over or around it.

Welcome to Hell.

I am pleased to say I conquered, with only a few breaks to sit on The Chair (conveniently located, right there where I was working !) and wallow in lonely self-pity. And I *think* I’ve found everything I need to take with me to the new place (except for the little bookcase from Stephen’s office, which I am remembering as a solid piece, but which may well have been more particle board). Go me !

Must fall over now.

Help me out here.

Hossam Ramzy is coming to NZ and teaching a drum seminar. The hitch(es)?
1) I’d have to buy a new drum
2) I’d have to take two days away from work

I’m already going to be dropping a wad on Serena Ramzy’s two-day dance seminar, the Friday night show, the Saturday night dinner, and the (I think) Sunday night video presentation. I shouldn’t drop yet another wad on a new drum and a drum seminar. I sort of need a new drum, in that my ceramic one that I love makes me nervous with its fragileness, and I’ve been wanting to get one of the Egyptian style metal bodied tablas that I can bang around. So I *have* been wanting a drum. However I’m not in love with the silver tabla at Drum City (although it might grow on me, I don’t know). It’s got a great sound, and I’d probably not find the “perfect” drum unless I went back to Cairo, and who knows when that’s going to happen ? And if I did find the perfect drum, I could sell this one, or give it to someone… But I don’t *need* either the drum or the class, and it’s a not-trivial chunk of change to drop, when I should be buying appliances and stuff. But how often do you get to study tabla with Hossam Ramzy ? Argh…

I can’t believe no one wants the dryer. It’s a nice dryer ! Poor little Toyota. It served you well. Or at least, to the best of its limited abilities.

Yesterday (Monday) was dance class & there was this neat chick from LA there showing us some moves she learned from Aisha Ali. Fun ! We bonded over the whole “Damn, but isn’t NZ kewl?!” thing. We were remarking to each other how NZ seems so astonishingly dickhead-free. Tusiata and Silvia offered to introduce us to a few, and we were forced to allow that there *are* some around, just not in the concentrations one finds in, say, Boston or LA. So class was cool, except that after Jamie showed us her stuff Beverly started teaching a veil choreography to Loreena McKennet’s Marco Polo — Wahh! I miss Bad Raqs !!! *sniff*

This week instead of spending the three hours between work and class wandering the streets (or flobbing in the library), I picked up some take-out sushi and ate it in the empty apartment. Got some cleaning supplies, too, and did a bit of cleaning. The place was pretty clean already, and I’m nothing like a clean freak, I just figure if there are going to be fingerprints on the lightswitch plates they ought to be *my* fingerprints, you know ? Marking territory, I reckon.

After work today, I need to excavate the futon frame and hopefully Stephen’s desk — both of which I think ended up in the far back of the garage behind absolutely everything else we own — because tomorrow afternoon a couple of burly guys from Shift-A-Flat are coming with a truck to take stuff to the new place. Thankfully, Chris seems to have largely gotten over the novelty of standing around in Gondorian armor for 12 hours a day, and will be home to help me shift stuff (and rescue me if any of it tries to fall on me). Yay !

Saturday morning I took my 1986 Toyota to the junkyard, and consigned it to the crusher. It served me well, lasting to within a few weeks of its assigned termination date. The sign that its “time had come” happened three weeks ago- when the exhaust system started dragging along the road. At that point the car had “crossed the line” from amusingly disfunctional to falling apart. Getting it started Saturday morning was fun (battery died in the weeks it sat still). Driving to the junkyard was also fun, as the brakes were more…exciting… then they had been previously. It also did not like to back up, as the dragging exhaust system tended to dig in like an anchor. But I made it there safely, and another thing is now taken care of.

The closing on the house has been delayed a few days while the buyers wrangle paperwork with their bank. I don’t mind the delay so much, as there is still plenty to do- like finding a charity that can come by and pick up the electric dryer this week. Always a challenge.