I Like to Move It, Move It

I had offered my services to assist (Intern)Bill with his moving. He took me up on it. Friday night when we were making plans for Saturday he told me to give him a call at noon. Noon?? Wow, that's generous. When offering my moving assistance I usually plan on 7 or 8. 9, if they really love me. With my morning unexpectedly free, I decided to go for a hike. Snoqualmie Point (which converges with the Rattlesnake Ridge trail), I determined, would be my destination.

After I got back and cleaned up I was ready to call (Intern)Bill. He beat me to it. Seems there had been a situation involving his stuff and the elevator. He wasn't sure how long it would be, but if I had other things to do, I might as well do them.

I went grocery shopping.

At 2 he called me to ask me to pick up a broom on my way over.

When I got to his place it looked like the movers had just dumped everything in the middle of his living room and run away. I had no idea where to start, but I knew it involved organizing the living room first.

We rearranged, unpacked, dusted, moved, re-rearranged, discussed, made multiple trips to his corporate housing apartment and back, and moved some more. Finally I determined we needed a few things:
1. dish soap so I could clean up some dishes and get those out of the way
2. sponges to use on the dishes
3. dish rags
4. sheets for his bed—we tried to make it, but he couldn't find the sheets he wanted, and the few sets he had didn't fit and/or failed to match his hideous bedspread with which he is in love. (I tried to find a picture for you, but I can't. Just trust me, it's bad)
5. a shower curtain

We went to Target and spent nearly $400.

Then he took me to dinner to thank me for my help.

And, we returned to his apartment to do some damage with our new purchases. I started a load of dishes, and a load of wash containing the new sheets. And set to work washing more dishes by hand.

I finally left his place at 2:15 this morning. Despite the fact that I'm a tough girl I made him walk me to my car—he lives in Chinatown, for Pete's sake! As we were walking to my car a scruffy-looking vagabond crossed the street in front of us and paused to leer. "That," I said under my breath, "is why you're walking me to my car."

We reached my car and he gave me a huge hug, thanking me for my help. "Hey, tonight," I instructed, "really wait for my text, I'm pretty tired."

"Will do," he replied.

The text in question is a safety feature Nanny, Sweetheart and I started last year. When we would leave each other in the evenings, whoever was driving home had to send a text to the person whose house we just left. It was usually a very brief exchange, something to the effect of, "Home safe and sound. Night." To which the (mandatory) reply was frequently "ok. night." Nothing deep, but we knew how long it should take, and would call if it wasn't forthcoming.

A couple weeks ago I sent that text to (Intern)Bill who didn't reply. The next day I told him that he's supposed to reply to those, and explained their purpose.

Last night after I sent the text he hadn't replied, but I figured that he had probably received it. I fell into bed and was nearly asleep when my phone rang. I answered, and then he hung up. I called back. "You took so long to send me the text I was worried, but I got it just as I called you."

To be honest, it was great to hear his voice wish me a good night over the line. That's one of my favorite times of day when I'm dating someone—that last little phone call to say 'good night.' I know this wasn't that, but I'm going to enjoy it as if it were.