The Reluctant Receptionist

well, dearest reader(s), it’s already friday, with a great big three-day labor day weekend stretching out ahead of us. labor day is admittedly a little bittersweet: another summer come and gone, september giving way to the awesome crispness of october and november, which will then give way to the bitchass hateful shitfuck eastern seaboaord bullshit winter weather. it was a big summer, though, i have to admit, one in which i got to wear my speedo quite a bit (maybe a little bit more than some people would’ve liked. those gradeschool kids at the jersey shore can be so puritanical!), one in which we partied like crazy, went outside a lot. oh, and my boyfriend moved here from san francisco. that happened, too. so here’s labor day, the official end to all of that, if not the end to the heinous heat. and, obviously, it’s our last two days to wear white shoes or seersucker, so break out those stripey suits and white loafers! dear god, i wish i were kidding, but i’ve already worn my seersucker for what i announced to phong to be “the last time for the season,” which was, as expected, met with a grand eyeroll. early next week i’ll take it, with my sweaters, to the dry cleaner. in with the old, out with the new.

the biggest thing we have planned for this weekend is helping cory and sean move from hoboken (a.k.a. sobroken, ho-pokin’) to astoria. they’ve been in exile, somewhat, because cory moved out of his apartment in astoria that he shared with courtenay because her brother moved in, and he and sean hadn’t found a suitable place. by what i’m going to call an early christmas miracle, they found what they say is an awesome place—a two bedroom, no less, even though they’re boyfriends—for a reasonable price, right off the 30th avenue stop in astoria. what does this mean? it means that they’re like practically down the street from me, as new york city goes. we’re like next door neighbors, except that my real next door neighbors are of the latino persuasion and obviously don’t care that they’re literally crawling with bedbugs, that they have so many bedbugs that the little fuckers have to crawl under the baseboards to come feed on us. but i digress.

so we’re getting up early tomorrow morning and hauling ourselves out to hoboken, where we’ll load up their truck then, i assume, take the train back to astoria, where we’ll unload the truck. what’s funny about this is that i swore after my last move that i once and for all was never moving myself again, never hauling furniture and boxes up and onto and then out of a budget rent-a-truck. that i would forever hire other people to do it, as i was no longer in college. and because i am, as you all know, a pretty princess. but phong said that it was good exercise, and he’s right. power yoga and moving apartments. i’m gonna be jacked.