Only about two and a half years after moving in to my current place, I’m finally getting rid of my boxes. One of my friends called dibs on ‘em. I still feel pretty sick, but I’m now sick after a nap, some good coffee and getting thoroughly buzzed on cold meds, so it’s time to kick my messy office in the teeth.
Bruce the Puffalamp deserves better. I mean, currently Bruce has to share the desk with another lamp that I bought because it matched another Puffalump. And a Volkswagen carb. And a now-vintage VAIO. Also, a gear puller. Oh, and that one time Panorama published me chugging beans out of a shoe. Unacceptable!
Moving the already unpacked boxes out of the living room will also force me to move the rusty 944 headers, too. I’m almost sad about that one, but I could also lazy out and prop them up against the dead tires I need to give away. Anyone need to make a tire swing out of a thoroughly nuked 15-inch Z2?