We went up to Dallas yesterday to engage in some fine fast-action movery for my brothers. The idea was to drop my mom and aunt at the airport by 10 AM, and drive directly from there to Dallas, getting there at about 2 PM. Somehow, probably because of me and my blankets and pillows and the dog, we managed to get into Dallas by 4 PM — hurrah, efficiency!

The apartment is rather nice (my brother didn’t get the chance to inaugurate the toilet in his bathroom, unfortunately, and we all mourn for him — but he did apparently establish himself as that toilet’s master, and all of the other things that he has done in his life seem paltry accomplishments), although the wall-length mirror in the dining area is kind of cheesy. Or creepy. It seems to be saying, “Your lack of vanity appalls me, filthy human. LOOK INTO MY EEEYESSS!”

When the soul transfer is complete, you will hear a dinging noise, and may proceed with your life.

And then, there was hunger, the ferocious beast: I managed to stave off its terrible pangs by gorging on an enormous tray of croissants, strawberries, and granola bars (thank you Sam’s for your kind service to my stomach), at least, until we stopped at the next Sam’s in Dallas to buy my brother a mattress. You might ask, “Why Sam’s? What about furniture stores?” After our upcoming escapade, I ask myself the same question.

We bought the mattress (and spring box), but unfortunately, had few ways of getting it back to the apartment. If I wanted to sacrifice about half of my already limited sitting room inside the mini-van, we could probably fit the mattresses in the back of the van, with a little hanging out. Or, and this was a disastrous suggestion, we could carry them on the luggage rack, which we had used once before for the same purpose.

This is where I detail the superiority of normal rope over special bungee ties:

Once we got the mattresses on top of the van, we used these bungee cords (fun, right?) to secure them to the rack. We were advised by the guy helping us that “if you started gaining a little speed all of a sudden, just brake and look in the rear view mirror, and hope to God you didn’t kill anybody.” (I paraphrased a little.) About a mile after our voyage had begun, the mattresses did in fact fly off. It’s a fantastic natural phenomenon that I had never witnessed before. Breathtaking. The mattresses, so young and untested, gracefully charged off the roof of the van, trying their wings for the first time, tasting the sky, relishing ever moment of being airborne… before they fell with a noise similar to a bull elephant running into a house.

So here was the predicament: we had stopped the van completely in the right lane, and the mattresses both landed about twenty feet from us, across two lanes of traffic. One bungee cord had come loose, and the force of its release triggered another bungee to snap and another and another, and the result is what we saw stretched across the highway. I should use this strategy when creating death traps, but I strongly advise that you find better ways to transport mattresses. Like hover boats.

This awesome lady (who I have hence named GODIVA, PROTECTOR OF MEN) helped us out by telling us exactly how to use the bungees and stressed the importance of going very slowly. So we did. Ten miles-per-hour for seven miles. It didn’t help that my dad stopped the van every time he saw a store that “might sell rope!” Oh god, rope. The Boondock Saints taught me its importance so long ago, but I so foolishly left did not heed their wise words.

I think, after we got back from Dallas at 2 AM and I overslept and decided to skip the first day of my Economics class, I’m a little short on wisdom — but I still had enough in me at the end of the day to assemble the best vacuum known to man. I have named him SIR POOTLY. The noises he makes fills the room with joy. And the giant rats in the trash chute cower as they play witness to his might.