The Manfort is no more.
Back when Mario was jerking me around, I found a new little hole in the wall in Uptown. I quickly settled in and made the little studio my home. To double the wee bit of space I had, I constucted a loft out of 4x4's and 2x4's using the old maple bed frame Todd and I made. It really was nifty. I made it right and it jiggled not in the least. Super solid. And we dubbed it the "manfort". Soon the entire apartment became known by this moniker and we slipped into a vernacular of "heading to the manfort today" or "let's stop by the manfort and get some more cheese/beer."
I lived happily in my little abode through the summer and soon after meeting Jen (again), spent little time back at the ol' manfort. (We stayed up all night and played parcheesi for weeks on end.) Anyway, weeks and then months went by and around January, I'd found that I hadn't slept there since August really (all that parcheesi). So Jen and I made the move to her place official and I told the landlord to look for a new tenant. The new guy moved in Febuary and I was free. Almost.
I was hoping that the new renter would appreciate the manfort with its new addition and I'd simply be able to leave it all behind. I've no room for it now anyway. He did not enjoy it however -- so I was asked to remove it. Dammit. This shall be no easy feat, I pondered. It was nailed, bolted and screwed together with deck cleats, socket head cap bolts, drywall screws and framing screws. Good thing we've got a saws-all at work capable of cutting a hole through any wall. With one initial trip to get the rest of my dishes, books and miscellaneous crap that was still there, I returned this last Wednesday to finish the job. Actually - after sawing through the main support, the whole thing came apart pretty easily, but it still took almost three hours.
The plan was to donate the now orphaned bed to a friend in Roseville and bring the lumber home for new garage shelves. Good thing the neighbor was home to help. That damn bed frame was heavy. And large. And especially awkward. After discovering that it didn't fit in the van I borrowed, we had to tie it to the top. Bikes, mattress, vacuum cleaner and tools went in the back. And off to Roseville I drove.
I had a half hour to kill before the new owner would be home, so I stopped at a little bar on the way to have a beer. I used to live in Roseville and had passed it many times. I used to think - I should stop in there sometime and see what it's like. So upon passing it on this evening, I did stop and walked into the Townhouse bar.
Honest - I did not realise where I was until I was sitting at the bar and noticed that the listed drink specials seemed a little persuasionly biased. Names like the "cocksucker" and the "blowjob". So I looked around and noticed that indeed the couples that were there were together and all men. As Jerry says, "Not that there's anything wrong with that..." And indeed there isn't. Not one to waste a beer, I sat and enjoyed mine. It was then that I had to leave anyway. I did learn however, that they have piano karaoke on the weekend and in fact Erin Schwab and Lori Dokken are the hosts on those evenings. I used to catch Erin at Jitters a while back and she puts on a great show. Given that, I may have to stop in again -- on a weekend -- and say hello.
So onwards to Roseville to deliver the bed. After hauling the old bed to the dumpster, we managed to wrestle the maple bed into its new home. We shared a couple of victory beers and I was on my way home. Around 1 in the morning now. Jen was sleeping already, so I unloaded the rest of the lumber and stuff into the garage. I had to bring the van back to work, so I left the bikes in it to ride one home again.
And Jesus did that suck -- big time. I was exhausted from lifting 5000 lb beds all evening. The wind had picked up and it was bitter cold. Of course, the wind was blowing against me. And to top it off, most of the route from work to home is uphill. I rolled in at 2:30 in the morning and figured I'd lose at least three fingers and part of my nose to frostbite. Good thing we had microwave burritos to revive some warmth to my system.
But in the end -- it's done. I left the keys to the manfort there and no longer have to stop by. Ever. And all my junk is at the new home -- with Jen and Mira and Sid and Jewely and Brother Fish and Sister Fish. You go ahead and call me a wimp, but I hadn't done that much work in a long time. The ol' muscles are getting spongy and frail. Damn cable TV and burritos.