For all the boxes I’ve packed, slid, pushed, picked-up and drugged. For the 6 moves I made in 5 years accommodating & supporting your a€€, my back won’t forgive you!
For you asking if I needed help after I’ve packed 90% of my shit. You never were much of a gentleman – probably didn’t have a model or mentor, right. My back won’t forget.
For hanging curtains, heavy artwork, and pictures, because we moved again – my arms shook from muscle failure. The resulting biceps, Michelle O worthy.
For the storage runs to keep things organized and out of what I thought was your anal and was, if it doesn’t belong to you, then you want it out of the way. Facts.
For fixing the sliding glass door, garbage disposal, painting spots on walls, scrubbing tubs & toilets, and power washing the front d*mn porch, my back can’t forgive you man. What kind of man are you?
Forget my back. Now all of my joints ache. You name it. My autoimmune diseases say F🖕🏽you!