DELETE—Moving Day

by Brittany Geragotelis

Once a week, my guest blogger (who shall remain nameless...okay, not nameless...let's call her Ms. Sassy Pants. Sassy for short) stops by to share all the things in her life that deserve a big, fat DELETE. Anyhoo, her majesty is back and this week, she's taking on her big move. Check out what she had to say and then come up with a few DELETES of your own.

As you may or may not know, I moved recently, and with that comes hiccups. Moving is a tad stressful, and believe me, I've had plenty of opportunities to flip a switch. But as the lady of dignity and grace that I am, I just take passive aggressive action and bitch about it here...and then administer a few mental eye rolls when nobody's watching.

So, what's more worthy of a big, fat DELETE than moving into a new place? Well, as a housewarming present, I give you the highlights of my move:

photo credit: The CW/Gossip Girl

Neighbors. Now that I live in a co-op I have plenty of them. Some are lovely and some...not so much. For example, calling the doorman to complain about noise (a.k.a. me walking around my apartment) instead of marching your ass upstairs, knocking politely on the door and asking me to tread softly, deserves a big fat slap in the face...or in this case I can settle for a DELETE.

Parking in NYC. Are you kidding me? The day of my move there was an ice storm (note to self: living in the Northeast...DELETE) and the City had suspended alternate side of the street parking. So, Little Ms. Sassy Pants had to get creative in a pinch. What did I do you ask? I parked on the bloody sidewalk. Wouldn't you? So, to no parking in Manhattan and all of the absurd rules there are here...DELETE.

People offering their opinion when loading the van. Unless you roll up your bleeping sleeves and offer a hand, you douche, why don't you step off and shut your trap. I have my own debate going on in my head and I don't need you adding to the peanut gallery. DELETE.

Unpacking. One word...DELETE. But maybe in the process I can "accidentally" drop one or two boxes just to pay tribute to my kind neighbor downstairs.

photo credit: Warner Home Video/Friends

Laundry room etiquette. True story. The kind, considerate person that I am, I only use ONE washing machine. Let me reiterate: ONE. So I go down to reload the ONE machine I was using and this woman (if you can call her that...I prefer the term beastly nuisance) said she wanted to use my machine. I assumed she had been waiting for one to open up, so I was ready to relinquish my claim and concede. But something didn't smell right...must have been coming from her since she just crawled out of her cave. I asked, "Are you using any other machine?" And the beast responded, "yes, I'm using these as well." She was using ALL of the other machines! The nerve of her! Trying to get her paws all over my one remaining machine. And then, just when you think it can't get any worse, she commences with the most despicable act of them all. She pulled the "baby" card. She had a baby sleeping upstairs and didn't want to be running back and forth to the laundry room. Who leaves a child alone to do laundry? Oh yeah, that's right. A friggin beast. DELETE.

Ahhhh...good times in Chez Sassy.

5x5,
B.