Wednesday, February 4, 2015

The Big Move... Again

A couple of days ago I got my haircut and a phone call from my sister.

“Hey I found some jobs for you?”
“Jobs?” I asked.
“Yeah for when you move here. Mom didn’t tell you?”
“Noooo-”

Just as I said that the garage door opened and my Mom came into the living and saw me with this look of… well… shock, hate, a little surprise but mostly confusion. I hang up on my sister and waited for my mother to start talking. It was like an interrogation in my house; we had one light on and my mother sat before me in the dining room.

“I’m just tired, Joey. I go to work. I come home. I go to bed. I don’t do anything on the weekends because I’m tired both mentally and physically. At least in Texas I can work shorter days and do stuff. I miss your sister terribly.”

I got up and moved into the kitchen and made some day old Chinese food. I had to thinking about everything. I’m not nervous or scared about the move I’m just shocked… because when we both visited last year in August … we didn’t like it, it was too white picket fence, family small town perfect for raising babies and having babies.

The moment I finally realized it was when the real estate agent planted the for sale sign in front of the house. It’s been four days and we already sold the house. Well, we think we did.

But first lets back track. Monday morning I got called into work. It was my long shift, the eleven to eight and I was glad to do it. I had just got my haircut and I was looking so fleek. I call it the modified undercut because I didn’t get the sides of my head shaved completely off. I’ll save that for the lesbians and the hardcore gays.

Everyone at work loved my haircut and my manager said, “It really accents your face.” I think that means I have a fat face. I wore my black sweater and placed a lime green undershirt underneath as a pop of color Guliana Ranic says that’s the new thing to do now. My store director asked me why I did that and I said, “It’s a pop of color duh. Idiot.”

Yesterday morning we had our first showing. A couple came in from Ontario. At 9:30 in the goddamn morning. They looked around, commenting on such things as the floors, the make of the fridge and then, in something I’ve only seen in TV shows and movies, the wife drags her finger along the counter and brings it up to her face to check for dust. Then she brushes her fingers on her pants and whispers, “Dusty.”


Bitch…