That moment when the fancy ass glassware that you are trying to pick up slips from your hands, lands on the floor, bounces intact off of the floor and you breathe a quick sigh of relief that it didn't break, and then it shatters into a hundred pieces when it hits the floor on the second bounce. Yes, that moment. I have lived that moment. That's when I hear the shrieking sound of Mark quickly closing in.
"Goddamnit, goddamnit, goddamnit. What did you break now? You do that on purpose. You hate my stuff!"
No, I don't hate Mark's stuff. There is way too much of it around here, and I hate that, but I don't hate his stuff. It's very nice stuff, and I am now in the middle of packing it all away for the big move to Chicago. Unfortunately, I am constantly reminded of how many times I have broken pieces of Mark's fancy ass, glassware by the number of odd wine glasses I am packing in the boxes. It makes me move just a bit more cautiously while I handle all his stuff. So I am double bubble wrapping it and double boxing it all. I love that bubble wrap, but it takes a lot to do the job. I'm going through it like toilet paper in a cholera epidemic. I have found that it isn't very cheap, so I don't sit around popping it anymore. Up to eighty dollars a roll for bubble wrap depending upon the size and length. Almost as valuable as the glassware that I am wrapping up in it. Think about that the next time you are sitting around, popping away while you should be working.