T-A-R-P spells tarpaulin
I almost never talk about myself. Unless, say, I'm awake or something.
But allow me here to state that I believe myself to be really good at packing things*. Suitcases, backpacks, vehicles, storage units. I've helped a lot of people move, I worked at construction sites in college, I have a lot of experience with loads, how they shift, and how to tie that shift down. And how to put on tarps so they stay tight and don't flap themselves into rags.
Side note: It's hard to imagine how this post could be more pointless. One might hope there's an interesting story to follow; there *is* a story, but it's a bit on the so-boring-I-have-to-kill-myself-with-a-stapler side.
Anyway, I bought a dresser I saw on craigslist.
When I got to the place, the seller (a really nice young woman) also convinced me I needed to buy a futon she had.
Side note #2: while we’re discussing the price, the seller’s friend showed up, and started flirting with me. I’ve had hints before, but dang-a-lang -- I was half afraid this woman was going to take her clothes off and lie down on the futon. I have no idea why I mention this – I think maybe it’s a desperate attempt to make this story interesting. (“Not working, captain – I can’t hold her – we’re going down…”)
So aaaanyway: this being Seattle, it's naturally raining, so we have to tarp the load. Unfortunately the seller fancied herself a boy scout and insisted on telling me how to do it. More trouble than it’s worth to tell her how great I am, so I let her take over.
As always, we ended up with ropes at lame angles that made them come loose later, and tarps being held in place by friction. Within 5 miles everything was flapping, and the furniture was getting wet.
This story is almost over, I promise.
I stopped under an overpass to fix everything, and in about 10 seconds there was a cop behind me asking for my license and telling me I was a danger to myself and others. He also noticed my plates were expired. I told him I’d sent the check in a cpl wks ago, but dispatch/records told him they knew nothing of such a check. I could tell he felt sorry for me standing outside his window dripping wet, and I guess he didn’t have the heart to make life worse for me or something. He made me go get my checkbook and show him the carbon copy of the check I’d written to Dept of Licensing. He said, “I should ticket you, but just get your truck off the road at the next exit.”
Then he drove away, and this blog post mercifully came to an end.
*All you degenerates who want to make a lewd joke right now, stop it.