The Cube, It Calls to Me

We're moving back to MN. This time, instead of three stunningly packed carloads, we're "renting" a transport cube. The cube is 6 X 7 X 8 feet in size and will hopefully hold enough of our stuff that on the car ride back to St. Paul we won't resemble a traveling family of gypsies. Not that there's anything wrong with gypsies; I simply abhor false pretension and don't want to pose as something I'm not.

Yesterday, we visited the cube for the first time. It's made out of heavy steel, and opens via two eight foot high doors. Simply put, it is a thing of transport beauty. Pack it full of whatever you wish, lawyers, guns, or money, and then slap a padlock on the doors and step back while it's loaded on a freight truck. A week later, you can pick up your stuff wherever your headed, or pay more and have them drop the cube off right at your new home. I think they track it via computers, numbers, and other assorted forms of magic.

Tomorrow, we load the cube fully. Until then, it calls to me.

6 comments:

Brady said...

I enjoyed your Zevon reference.

Brady

Blogagaard said...

Thank you, Brady. That song rrrrrrrrrr-ocks.

mikey said...

I can't wait to do it all in reverse.

Blogagaard said...

Miguel, we expect our apartment to be strewn with rose petals, a bucket of ice with the finest champagne, and a basket of delicate cheeses. Nothing less than the best...

Just Dan said...

You're moving back? Groovy!

Boise's loss is MN's gain.

Can you bring me back some potatoes? ;-)

Blogagaard said...

Hi Dan!

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