3

Have you ever noticed that the older you get, the more highly unpleasant a thing it is to hafta move?

Seriously now.

I’m sure you haven’t forgotten to remember that I told you that I decided to downsize. It took me almost a week (eight days, 3 hours and 87 minutes, to bee precise) to find a nice, cozy little Shoebox. I couldn’t beelieve how amazingly difficult it is to find Reasonably-Priced Shoeboxes these days. I finally had to hire a Shoebox Broker to help me out on this thing. She was great, except that she kept calling me “Honey” which I thought was highly rude since my name is Georgie, you know. (Somebody needs to tell her to stop doing that to her customers.)

Anyway, I found one, then I had to deal with gathering all my Essential Beelongings and trying to find some help getting that stuff moved.

I asked Kevin (my Illegitimate Nephew) if he could help, but he just said, “Uncle Georgie, you’re the best uncle in the world, and I love you, but I’m still exceedingly preoccupied with trying to put Bert back together, so no.”

Everybody else I know said the same thing, so I ended up having to call a Moving Company. The Worker who handled what she called my “Case”, said, “Of course, deer, we’ll bee more than pleased to assist you” (which they did). She told me that all I had to do was to provide a complete and detailed Inventory with an Estimate Value, then submit my pre-payment in an amount equal to or greater than that Value, and they’d put me on the Waiting List. So I did that. Then I asked her, “How long is the Waiting List?” I had know.

“Well, deer,” she said (she kept calling me that…anybody who knows me knows I’m not a deer…I’m a bee), “We’ll try to get to your Case sometime beefore the beeginning of the Cold Season, but we can’t promise that."

So I’m still waiting. In the meantime, I’ve temporarily been living inside a nearby Barbecue Grill alongside a Migrating Butterfly who just sits around and lies all the time, and for some reason keeps calling me “Sugar”. The only time I can get away from all this is when I go have breakfast every day at a local Diner that has, without any doubt whatsoever, the totally best Honey Waffles I’ve ever tasted in my entire life, probably. I mentioned that, beecause there’s a Server there who takes my Order and keeps calling me “Sweetie”.

“Would like like more Waffles, Sweetie? Do you need some more Fresh Squeezed Nectar, Sweetie? Can I get you anything else, Sweetie?” I mean it just never stops. I wouldn’t even go back there if it weren’t for those Waffles and the Free Internet.

I just hafta ask: WHAT IS IT with all this calling your customers “Honey” and “Deer” and “Sweetie” and “Sugar”? I realise I’m Highly Adorable, mostly, but shouldn’t there bee a Limit to all the Outpouring of Affection? I think so. I think it’s just way too Overly-Familiar to run around and do that.

I mean, would I call my Boss (Felonie Snark) “Sweetie”? No, I wouldn’t, and neither would you if you ever met her.

Anyway, I’m still waiting to hear from the Moving Company, but I’m hoping that I’ll bee nicely situated in my new, warm and cozy Shoebox soon. That’ll bee nice.

Okay then. It’s supposed to bee a beeeeautiful day today so I’m gonna go enjoy that.

Let’s all bee careful out there.