Our hippie neighbors across the street are moving out, and it's even more of a circus than when we moved. Cars pull up, get mattresses precariously strapped to their roofs, and pull away slowly, hazards flashing. Groupings of furniture appear and disappear. People keep showing up, tripping, dropping things, flinging full garbage bags into back seats.
Tonight two of them got into a fight while I was smoking on the porch. The girl's voice was high and panicked and just kept getting higher and more panicked until she was basically emitting a series of strangled squeaks.
"I can't do it like this! I'll have to unload the van by myself and then there's all this other stuff I have to come back and get and I don't just want to drag it around with me and I don't see why I have to neeneeneeneeneeneenee!"
Then the dude, exasperated and feckless. "LOOK. All you have left is this stupid chair shit--I don't know what the fuck--the chair covers. And this black curtain rod. THAT'S IT. And I don't see why I should blah blah blah blah blah."
"Neeneeneenee!"
"Blah blah blah blah!"
Finally, they came to some sort of agreement and climbed into their rented van. Then they drove away, but not before they came about an inch from taking out another neighbor's open car door.
I wanted to laugh, but then I realized there's an excellent chance that just one month ago Eric and I had a few exchanges that sounded a lot like that one. So I decided to feel sympathetic instead, for moving truly sucks. I can't tell you how glad I am that August is finally over.