I’m a lazy son of a gun. It’s summer break, so I’ve got that excuse going, but I’m supposed to move from my apartment to a house a few miles away and just the thought of transporting all my junk is overwhelming. I’ve got half a thought of leaving everything and starting over, but then I’d have to shop for all new things and I’m not sure which action would entail less effort.
This laziness thing has gotten bad. My new housemates and I threw a housewarming party Saturday night and just the thought of preparing for it paralyzed me with sloth. I managed to invite a bunch of people, pick up a keg, make some sangria, and clean up the place a little. But now the party’s over, the house is warmed and I’ve still got to get everything from point A to point B.
So why go through with it?
If you’ve been to 1202 Cole Ave apartment #2, you’d know the answer. I’ve been in this place for six years and I’m convinced the only way to get it clean is to blow it up. George, my cigar chomping former stunt man slumlord, refuses to put new carpet after myself and the other tenants on the lease have donated over $90,000 to his bank account.
Now, it’s off to the Fairfax area to a house I’ll be sharing with my brother, Sean, and Daphne, another Miami native. We’ve got hardwood floors, a fireplace, and a big backyard. The only downside is we’ll all be sharing one bathroom and my bedroom door does not have a lock. This could be a problem because the last time I shared a place with my brother was when we were growing up and our fights would only end when I locked myself in my room. But last night we all got along close to swimmingly at the party. Here’s an account of the bash in case you missed it.
4:00 PM Sean drove back from a nudist beach in San Diego with a shit eating grin on his face. We meet at Trader Joe’s and buy snacks and wine. He points out an attractive girl shopping. I think she once dated an insane boss of mine and later had a prominent role in the mediocre comedy, The House Bunny. He wants me to invite her, but I’m not entirely sure it’s her.
5:00 PM We drive to Bev Mo and get a keg of Bud Lite. I was partial to Pabst Blue Ribbon, but Sean convinced me Bud Lite will get less complaints.
7:00 PM – We have cleaned up the place. Daphne has gotten home and as a trained interior decorator has redesigned the backyard. It’s pretty swank. There’s a giant inflatable pool, a lemon tree adorned with Christmas lights and a fire pit. We debate on what to put the sangria in. We empty and wash out a cooler and pour the wine, orange juice, and fresh fruit in it. “That’s kind of ghetto.” Daphne says. I remind her it will be dark and no one will see the dirt on the outside of the cooler. I work on the musical play list. I mix in Stevie Wonder with a song called “I’m in Miami Bitch”.
8:00 PM – Final preparations. Why does the owlish neighbor, keep peeping over the fence? Should I invite her?
9:00 PM – People start coming. I offer them beer and sangria. If there’s a pause in conversation I ask if they want a tour of the house. My room is now empty as the girl who lived there previously moved in the middle of the night. There is a chandelier in the room with unlit candles that hangs five feet from the floor. Sean’s room is also precarious in that it was once a den, but is now a room with only a geisha’s dressing wall separating it from the living room.
10:30 PM – We have about twenty or thirty people here. Enough to call it a party, but not so many that the neighbors could complain. Nick starts getting on my nerves. He says, “You need to liven this party up. Get everyone more social.” “Would you like me to introduce you to some people?” “No, I can meet people on my own. What you need is some beer pong.”
11:30 PM – Nick has set up the beer pong table. Beer pong is a game where cups filled with beer are stacked like bowling pins on each side of the table. Both teams have to throw ping pong balls into the other side’s cups. If a ball lands in one of your cups, you must drink the cups’ contents. As I peel off a sticker I find on the apple skin in my sangria, Nick tells me he wants to leave. “But you just set up the beer pong.” “Yeah, and I was in the middle of my first game when my girlfriend called and said she got robbed at gunpoint. Shitty timing.”
1:00 AM – Giving a tour of the house. I hear the music stop. The police came. I should have invited the neighbor. Everyone is moved inside There are maybe fifteen people left at most.
2:30 AM – A burning smell comes from the kitchen. It’s taken several people to figure out how to heat up frozen canapés. Daphne puts on the salsa music. Omar and a Columbian couple are the only people dancing with her. She shames me into dancing and then flatters me. “You don’t dance nearly as badly as I thought you would.” But then she dips and I miss the cue to catch her and she slams the back of her head on the hardwood floor.
3:30 AM- Everyone leaves. Bedtime. I drive home. I really like my new place, but how the hell will I get the energy to get everything there?