Although my bedroom still looks majorly lived-in, the rest of the house, not so much. The liquor cabinet is gone, and the booze that I'm taking with me is all packed. The coffee table is gone, as is a nightstand and the tall bookshelf. The dining room table gets disassembled later tonight after the poker game, and the sectional goes to a new home on Saturday. The Batch Pad is starting to look a lot more like a storage unit and a lot less like a home.
Yep, things are happening pretty quickly. My time in Vegas is winding down, and I should be back in Tennessee by this time next week. For those of you who are bummed out that I'm leaving America's Playground, you can blame it all on my sister Cyndi. After I parted ways with Bankrupt Station back in March, she was the one who immediately bought me a plane ticket and insisted that I bring my ass to Nashville and visit. Two weeks there with family and friends pretty much sealed the deal that I'd be leaving Vegas sooner or later.
My secret plan was to leave in July of 2011, but y'all already know the story of the accelerated timetable. I had a lot of fun when I was there, and decided that my days of missing out on all the holidays were numbered. Same with working nights and weekends. It's hard to believe that I put up with that nonsense for so long.
Besides, I miss doing normal stuff--like going camping. None of my buddies out here could ever go because everyone's work schedules were so effed up. And even back in the day when I was hanging out with Kimmy, Tuesday nights were the only time we could go out unless I bailed out of work three hours early. Basically, until we put together our weekly poker night (again, on the only night of the week that four of my friends can get together), my social life for the past couple of years consisted of going out drinking after work and hooking up with friends at the occasional casino. Enough is enough.
Hell, once I get back to Nashville and get the truck unloaded, I've got two quick days to see people, and then I'm off to Sweet Home Alabama next Thursday night to crash at Reverend Dave's place. Then we're getting up bright and early and reserving two first-come first-serve campsites at Joe Wheeler State Park about a half-hour away from where he lives. I'll spend the day setting up the camp, lounging, and reading a paperback (since he has to go in to work that day), and then that afternoon he'll come back, and Amy and Scottie will join us too.
We're gonna stay there for three nights, camping, drinking beer, playing games, and singing around the campfire, swimming in the lake like when we were kids, and we may even rent a pontoon boat one day. We're already talking it up, everyone's excited to cook out on the fire and make smores and such, and just being able to hang out with some of my favorite people in the world will be a great time. And oh yeah, I plan on taking LOTS of pictures. I haven't seen trees and water in so long, I'll probably be wandering around in the woods sounding more stoned than the double rainbow guy.
I can't wait. But first, I have to get the rest of this apartment packed up. It's coming along, but my bedroom still needs to be taken apart, and the kitchen needs to get packed up, too. But last night I pocketed a much-needed $200--I found a buyer for half of my surplus ammunition. I put an ad up on Backpage and within a half hour I got a call. So I drove over to the Fry's Electronics at Town Square and the deal went down in the parking lot. He got a bunch of 7.62 Russian AK-47 ammunition and three Kimber 8-round magazines, and I got two hundred bucks in traveling money.
It'll be put to good use, because not only do I have to change the oil before I go, but I'm pretty sure I'm gonna be needing a brake job, too. That kinda sucks, but better safe than sorry, especially when towing a trailer. Oh, and speaking of trailers, I booked some movers to come over on Saturday to load it for me. $80 and I get two guys for two hours. That'll help a lot. I remember moving all this shiat the first time, in the heat, and it sucked. Luckily, the forecast high on Sunday is only gonna be 93 degrees, the lowest temp we've had in almost three months. But by the time they get here on Sunday, everything should be stacked and ready to go, the apartment being nothing but an empty shell.
I'm still lookin' to sell another thousand rounds of .45 ACP before I go, but if I have to haul it to Tennessee, I'm sure I can find some gun-totin' redneck out there to buy it.
Anyhow, that's the news from here. Time for me to get crackin' on the rest of my day. All this shiat ain't gonna pack itself.