Hot. And Humid. And Sticky. And Excessive Capitalization and Puctuation.

Standard

I have a brother.

Well, actually I have two biological brothers, but I’m referring to the one that, until today, also lived in MN. But now he’s on his way back to MI in his little two-door Saturn following behind my mom who has a truck load of his Star Wars memorabilia and graphic t-shirts.

To get them to this point was quite the ordeal yesterday.

A day that I will not soon forget:

The day I learned my shoulders could sweat.

Long, drawn-out explanation shortened:

  • Brother’s friend “bailed” on him when he was supposed to be packing/moving things to his storage unit/cleaning. This put him way behind on everything, so he did the only appropriate solution: calling his Mother.
  • Brother calls Mother notifying her of the situation on Saturday night or Sunday morning. (Doesn’t really matter to me. I was unconscious at both times.)
  • Instead of driving down to pack up the truck on the way to MI Monday morning, Brother needs help on Sunday when Sister regains consciousness.
  • Mother, Husband of Sister, and Sister drive down in truck, but first stop to get stuffed hash-browns. (Ohmygoodness. They were the most amazing thing ever. Had I not eaten them before arriving at Brother’s apartment, all hell would have broken loose. The bacon grease helped me keep an even keel.)
  • M, HofS, and S climb stairs to third floor attic apartment attic-ment where B lived. (Yeah, I’m doing abbreviations now. Try to follow along.)
  • HofS looks at S in dismay. S swears aloud at the mess that she sees before her.
  • Group decides that if they get back to the Casa de S and HofS before sundown, the day will be considered a positive one. That was before the humidity and delirium set in.
  • The guys loaded up the truck with large things that were either going to be donated, pitched, or sent into the storage unit. M and S were left behind to battle the 130-degree apartment filled with only God knows what.
  • Eventually, after 3 trips to the storage unit across town, too many trips up and down the three flights of stairs, enough water for a small village, the most glorious lemon-lime Gatorade, and enough mumbled cursing to make a sailor blush, the three suckers who got stuck doing this smelly musketeers took off, all riding in the front seat of the truck, with B trailing behind them in a stuffed Saturn.

A few highlights of the day:

  1. I sat on the concrete steps outside the apartment for a while and tried not to pass out. When I got up, the spot where I was sitting was damp. I knew it had to be sweat before there was no way that my kidneys could be working in conditions similar to the rainforest. Dehydration is key when B has a questionable bathroom with no TP.
  2. I learned that I have self-control. M, HofS, and B all got Dairy Queen. I refused, because I was quite confident that my stomach would quickly reject it. It was way too hot to even consider eating.
  3. Being dehydrated made me feel skinny. Until we went home and I proceeded to eat 2.5 tons of pickle dip. I needed to re-stock my fat reserves for the next ridiculous adventure that takes 5 hours in sweltering heat and humidity with no access to AC and no bathroom. That will hopefully only take place decades from now when I’ve temporarily forgotten about this whole experience.

Overall, we all survived and he’s still my brother so I still love the guy. But next time, we’re investing in some big, burly men to pack this stuff into a semi and drive it to his next living situation.

I’d much rather pay them myself and enjoy a margarita than have my knees sweat ever again.

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