LAST CALL AT ALLEY 24

++ I MOVED THE last of my stuff out of the old apartment last night. With Zac and his friend Tommy there, it went quite smoothly and quickly.
Sweep the upstairs carpet.
Clean the upstairs bathroom.
Clean the oven.
Dust everything.
Sweep the downstairs floor.
Pile load number one into the car. Drive to the new place. Unpile load number one into the new place. Rinse and repeat three more times. And then on load number four, with one more load to go, at 2AM, parked in the 30 minute loading tow zone, I opened the trunk, turned the key, pulled the key and it broke...in half.
Spare key you say? Yup, I wish I had one.
Call AAA.
A visit from the locksmith.
3AM.
Yay! (Maybe not as enthusiastic as I might read that, because it’s 3AM.)
Go get load number five.
Drop off load number five and Zac and Tommy.
Go to friends’ house to help them clean and paint.
4AM
Prime the red wall, white.
5AM
Wipe down the walls.
6AM
Paint the wall white.
Dawn is breaking. (What a funny saying. I’m thinking birds chirping, yellow dishsoap, eggs being cracked open on a skillet, the smell of bacon. Pigs. A farm. Corn. An annual festival in my childhood hometown at the park just around the corner. Bikes. An old childhood friend. Fire in origami balls. Ping Pong. An endless tournament of three people. Brian Saunders. Two hand touch football. A stolen bike retrieved…)
(Where am I again?)
Goodnight all, er, Good Morning all.
Back to my new place.
Don’t wake the boys.
Upstairs to bed. Jeans still on.
“Hey, you going to work?”
“Yeah. What time is it?”
“7:50.”
“Yeah.”
“OK”
“Yeah.”
++