Saturday, April 12, 2008
Day 203 - Moving Day
Today Grandma & Grandpa Ichikawa moved out of our place and settled into their new apartment down the street. It's just over a mile away from us so I can still hear my mom yelling at me about not washing my hands. Speaking of which, my mom tells me that you should wash your hands as long as it takes you to sing the "Happy Birthday" song. Needless to say, I hear the "Happy Birthday" song all...the...time. But back to the moving...
My parents moved into this large apartment complex called The Plaza. It has too many amenities that my parents will never use. Sadly the two basic things that my parents want aren't working: Directv and the internet. My mom tells me when you get old the only two things you care about is your television and casinos (Silly me, I thought it was your health and family...what do I know.). Imagine my mom's disappointment when the Directv installer came and couldn't get a picture on the television. I think the last time I saw my mom so sad was when she ran out of clorox. Hopefully by the time you read this, the television will be working. If not, the closest casino is just north of San Diego.
As for the internet, my dad's DSL line isn't working. He keeps on tinkering with it and is trying to get the green light working on his router. I'm kinda impressed my dad is all up-to-date with this technology because most people his age probably think a router is some sort of procedure to ease arterial blockage.
After I helped my parents drop off some furniture at their new place, I started to rearrange the furniture in our second bedroom to make room for the cribs. I had to move this fairly large changing table/clothes drawer across the room. It was pretty hefty, but I was able to get it done. Anytime I move or lift something visibly heavy reminds me of this time I helped a friend move. She was moving apartments so I helped get all of the stuff into the moving truck. There was a lot of pretty large items like a sofa, television, refrigerator, etc. And after completing the job, she told me, "Wow, Scott. You must be stronger than you look." I try to convince myself she was complementing me, but every time I walk past a mirror I know I'm kidding myself.