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243/365 – The Trip: Coda
© 2012 Timmy Tamisiea. All rights reserved. Don't you dare yell at me, me!

243/365 – The Trip: Coda

We’re in California!  We did it.  We didn’t tear off each other’s heads.  We didn’t file for divorce.  We didn’t crash the truck and collect insurance as we faked our deaths . . . wait, how can you collect insurance if you’re dead?

Oh, that’s how.

Anyway, we are here.  In LA.  After almost a year of speculation and planing and wondering and decison making, we have arrived.  And there’s still so much work to do.  While having a a sublet takes a lot of stress off our plate, we now have to get our shit out of that 16ft truck and load it into a 10×15 stoage unit in Burbank.  Then we have to return the car.  Then we have to go grocery shopping.  Then we have to shoot our selves an collect the insurance money — wait.  No.  Scratch that last one.

Looks like someone DROVE themselves to death . . . . WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

The great thing about living in Chicago for 11 years is that it’s so easy getting help loading the truck.  While we know people here in LA, we don’t lknow enough to ensure we will have help.  Chicago kinda had the odds with us.  In LA, well, they’re stacked.  So, we’re kinda screwed.  The only guy who’s able to help is our good pal Andrew DeWitt.  This is Andrew:

We kinda screwed the pooch on this one.  I thought the Public Storage place we are renting from opened at 7am.  Nope.  We have access to our unit from 6am-10pm.  The office doesn’t open till 10.  We have no choice but to wait.  When it does open, the signing process is short and sweet.  When Andrew arrives, he starts dancing and saying, “Heeeeyyy, Dudes!”  The women behind the counter doesn’t know that he’s a friend of ours — and Andrew is a really laid back, happy guy.  So they just think he’s this really enthusiastic customer.  It was pretty funny.

Andrew helps us for about an hour — an hour of help we sorely needed.  Then it’s just Megan and I.  Two people who have just driven 8 days and 2000 miles.  Two people who are exhausted.  Two people who just want to stop and rest for a full day without work.  We make awful movers.  I break the glass to our coffee table.  Megan is tired.  I’m sore and both of our sinus are going bonkers because of this new climate.  It takes about 2.5 hours to load the unit and divide essentials we need back at the sublet from storage.

See what LA has done to me! SEE! I mean, SMELL!

We return home and drop off some things and grab lunch to refuel.  Then we drive all the way to Culver City from Burbank to return the truck.  Why didn’t I choose a closer place to return the truck?  Why!?  ANSWER ME, ME!

Don’t you dare yell at me, me!

Well, no matter.  We walk a round ulver City looking fo frozen yogurt.  When we find teh GPS located establishment, it’s closed.  AHHHHHHHH!  Grocery shopping!  No tale to tell here.  Just some things to eat and then home.

When we get home, we’re beat.  We just don’t want to do anything.  And we don’t.  We take the rest of the day off.  I have no strength to give you any fun facts.  his is a god damn coda.  Deal with it all 12 of you readers.  (Up since I’m an LA douchebag now!)

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