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shoes in the city

the story of the trials, tribulations and mundane bullshit of a disturbingly normal lesbian

Wednesday, March 19, 2008

home. really home.

In this life, one of the things that I'm supposed to learn is how to ask for help.  At least I'm desperately hoping that's true, because otherwise it's just plain mean that I keep ending up in situations in which I have to do it.

I don't like asking for help.  Perfectly happy to give it.  Don't like asking for it.  It makes me feel funny.  And vulnerable.  Belch.

But, since I'm broke and recently divorced and moving into a new place, I had to ask for help.  Having money means you can pay people to help you.  It's easy.  It's good for the people you hire.  But when your bank account won't support that behavior, you just gotta ask.

Surprisingly, people frequently say yes.  So Sunday morning, with a borrowed truck and a passel of friends, we moved the big stuff from one place to another.  And it was really fun to see my friends.  

Of course one thing was missing. Men.  I'm a dyke.  Which often means that men just aren't around.  I don't know that many guys.  I know even fewer that I would call and ask for help.  And, most of the guys I know used to be girls.  Which means that they don't have that size advantage that bio men do.

So, moving the couch were three women - not including me.  Because picking things up is a little challenging right now.  You see, a few years ago, I messed up my back playing rugby.  And, at really convenient times, it likes to act up.  Like when I'm moving.  

Then later in the day, it was me, Niki and Danae, moving a king size mattress up the stairs.  Here's how it went.

I'm 5' 11", about 160 lbs.  And pretty damn strong.  Even with a messed up back.  Niki and Danae are both about 5' 6".  And thin.  But it turns out, Danae is a brute.  Maybe it's the years of working with horses.  Or the yoga instructor girlfriend.  Niki and I were pushing from the bottom of the mattress.  Danae was pulling from the top.  It took us about 30 minutes to get the thing three feet.  But it got there.  It now has a lump.  And I don't care.

It's in my bedroom.  In my apartment.  Where it's just me.  And my dog.  And no one else.  It's peaceful.  God.  I had no idea how much I needed this.

I spent Sunday evening watching Sex and the City (season one), drinking red wine, and eating Chubby Hubby Ice Cream and Pringles.  I can't remember the last time I was so happy.  

So, so good.

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