Moving

I hate moving. I dread moving. I really really hate moving.

Especially when you're moving your stuff from a 4 storey apartment to another 4 storey apartment. And it's even more ironic when the stuff to be moved belongs to a friend who is outstation and is too far to come back in time to move the stuff.

Well, guess I was doing a friend a favor and it wasn't really his fault for not being around to move his stuff. Our ever efficient project manager had to inform us that we had to move out on that very day before 7pm. And we worked till 530pm. And we had been bugging him about the keys weeks earlier so that we could move out. There was this time when we asked him if he's got the keys and he fucking asked us why.

Or should I vent my anger on the landlord who insisted that we moved out this very day, on the 30th of August, when tomorrow is still in the month of August. But according to him, tomorrow doesn't count, as tomorrow is a fucking public holiday.
That's something new to me. I'm so glad we thrashed his unit to hell.

My hands are now shaking. My legs are wobbly. And my back is aching.

I want a good nice massage to knock some senses back to my joints.

Oh, and a very happy birthday to myself.