It's Saturday morning. You're in your pajamas, enjoying Life cereal, watching the Road Runner effortlessly thwart another attempted homicide. You get a text: "Hey I'm moving today. Can I borrow your hammer and drill?"
"Sure. So are you asking for help moving, too?"
"Yeah that would be great"
Umm... ugh... Could you have asked a week ago? Of course you can't just leave your friend in a lurch, so you text back, "sure when" with no punctuation, to suggest a deadpan glare.
"right now. Rental truck's timer is ticking"
Sigh. You put on pants, get in your car and arrive to find a house in disarray. Clothes scatter the living room. Dirty dishes stacked two feet above the counter level in the sink. Watermelon rinds are inexplicably stuffed between sofa cushions. "NOTHING IS IN BOXES!" you scream inwardly.
"Glad you could make it, you're the first one here!" your friend says, as you put air quotes around the word 'friend' in your mind.
Your anxiety inflates as you count the furniture and compare it to the number of lifters (2) and to the size of the truck (too small). How many loads will this take? He's moving to Hyrum, a twenty-five minute drive, one-way. Does he have any help on the other end to unload?
Thirty minutes pass as you carry drawers full of things you never wanted to see (or smell) down the stairs into a bad Tetris game of a U-Haul. "Who else is coming?" you inquire, politely.
"Uh I don't know. I put it on Facebook this morning, so..."
"Yeah, but who else did you text?"
"Oh, should I do that?"
"Yeah." You almost let yourself trip on the stairs, so the desk will land on you and you can go to the emergency room.