Boston Dispatch #2 - How to Be Mistaken for Homeless

Easy. Just don’t shave for two weeks, then carry a sleeping bag and a lawn chair on the ‘T’. Insta-transient! I got some interesting looks on my way home tonight…but I’m getting ahead of myself.

First, I need to address some of the emails I’ve received from you all in response to last night’s tirade. It’s glaringly obvious that I forgot to inform some of you, my close friends, what the hell I’ve been up to for the last year. So, let me first apologize for sucking (I’m sorry) and then give you abridged version of my shenanigans: I got laid off in March, married in April and start law school at Suffolk here in Boston in August. I knew that the hammer was coming down at work about a year ago and I also knew that IT and corporate living, with its fat paychecks and hot flight attendants, just wasn’t for me. I crave a simpler life with dense reading and lot’s of crazy liberals that make me look like a moderate. Obviously, the only thing that fit the bill was law school in New England. So here I am, all by my lonesome until my lovely wife of three months arrives next week to join me in the Peoples’ Republic of Cambridge.

So, now that you’ve been apologized to and gotten the back story, back to today’s interesting tales of moving to the Big Beanie. It started at 4am when I realized that no amount of wine would turn my hardwood floor into a Sleep Number bed. I tried for a few hours to get back to sleep but it was nothing doing. I finally got up around seven, got my first of three showers of the day (did I mention that it’s humid here?) and wander down the block in search of coffee. Around the corner on Mass Ave, I discovered a nice local coffee shop that was not prepared for me. I asked for a large Americano, a drink that always does you right and is quite simple. I was greeted with ‘umm, how many shots of espresso do you want in it?’ Huh? ‘Umm, as many as are supposed to go into it?’ Isn’t there some divine law that dictates how many angels can dance on the head of a pin and the correct espresso/water ratio in a large Americano? I guessed four and, for future reference, that is the recommended dosage. Armed with coffee and a cheddar/scallion scone, I headed home to start my mini-remodeling project.

A note on remodeling: if at all possible, live within a block of a hardware store. I do and, trust me, it saved me hours of time. I went there no fewer than three times today. Of course, if I had a pen and could write down what I need before making the trek, I probably would have only gone once but that’s beside the point. Notes are for professionals and I’m decidedly amateur.

My first project was to remove all the doors and ancient hinged cabinets in order to remove the paint from the great Deco hinges and fixtures. Man, what a pain in the ass! First off, I’d like to point out that Brass is similar to Bronze…and there’s a reason that the Bronze Age was succeeded by the Iron Age. I spent a pretty penny buying screws to replace the ones I was committing genocide upon. I got the kitchen today before I threw in the towel. I know, I’m a wimp.

At some point during the day, I also bought groceries and a Vornado™ floor fan. I felt weird buying frozen dinners at Whole Foods but I don’t have any pots or utensils as of yet. I even committed the cardinal sin of purchasing plastic forks there. What else was I to do? I don’t own a Swiss Army knife and I’ll be damned if I’ll subject myself to a strict fruit and granola bar regime until the movers get here. Anyway, I hugged several trees on my way home so that was my penance.

The fan, on the other hand, is a little rock star. I’m currently using it in my ‘can a small window A/C unit cool 625sf of apartment’ experiment. So far, it’s doing pretty well. Plus, it looks tough. It’s no sissy floor fan…it’s the Vornado™!

After giving up on my restoration project, I headed to Beacon Hill and the promise of an easy chair. I went over to P&M’s, drank some wine (duh) and chilled with Mel until Pat got back home. It was nice to just kick it with the big M for a bit. We talked of much important stuff like how the difference between dating and marriage is akin to Columbus’ discovery of the New World. He landed on Hispaniola and thought it was Japan (dating). Later, Vespucci sailed along the cost of South America, after the Trans-Atlantic trek had been vetted, and suddenly, dauntingly there was so much more (marriage). See what wine leads to?

Anyway, Pat finally showed up, we ate leftover pizza and watched mind-numbing TV for a bit. Did you know that Hugh Grant knocked over some photographer with his car? I didn’t. Luckily, they kept replaying the same three second clip of it so I’ll be counting paparazzi road kill tonight as I try to fall asleep. Also, there is cleavage ALL OVER PRIME TIME TV! You may not notice it but I have an eye for it so, trust me, it’s there. Crazy.

P&M were kind enough to loan me a lawn chair and a sleeping bag until the movers arrive. Man, talk about the simple pleasures. I’m looking forward to sleeping past 4am tonight. One paparazzo, two paparazzo…

On that note, I’m off to bed. I hope you all are doing well and have something better that a hardwood floor to sleep on tonight.

Cheers,
Shaun.

P.S. – For those of you that really really want to read the Italian Dispatches (all 24 pages of them), just ask and I’ll send them in Word. S.