How much ya wanna bet they were "engineers"?

Mechanical engineers, probably.

I know...I'm typecasting...or profiling. Still.....

I've spoken before about the...uh...diversity...around this apartment complex. We have quite a large number of those of a Middle-Eastern persuasion. Some, like our upstair neighbor, are from India. Others...well, I'm not sure where they're from. Exactly. I know they're from countries where the women wear black birkas and keep their faces covered, don't drive and keep their eyes downcast when meeting you face to face. 'Nuff said.

I'm not exactly sure just what brings them all here to Peoria, but
I know for a fact that the upstairs neighbor is an engineer and works for Caterpillar. I'm sure some of his friends do, as well. I know that Bradley seems to draw it's fair share of Middle-Eastern students and faculty, so I'm assuming that some of them are here because of BU. I know that some of them are doctors, so they're probably here because of the three local hospitals.

Anywho, this evening, our buzzer rang. At the door were two young men of some Middle-Eastern extraction. In heavily accented English, they asked if they could step inside our apartment in order to move a humongous sofa upstairs. The landing is on the tight side, so they were unable to make the turn without bringing part of the sofa in here, first.

Now, both these guys were on the small side. Maybe 140 pounds, soak and wet. And the particular sofa was, like I said, on the humongous side. It was also a recliner-type, so I'm sure it was heavy as hell. Annnd, it was wrapped up like a mummy...cardboard and plastic. Which, of course, just made it that much harder to handle, not to mention bulkier.

As they began to wrestle the monster, I suggested that they take off the plastic and cardboard. I mean...we're talkin savin a couple inches, at least. Which could make a HUGE difference. I've done my fair share of wrestling furniture around tight spots...I know my shit when it comes to this, ok?

But, being a mere woman, I'm sure they took my advice as seriously as they would from a talking pig. In other words, they completely ignored me and continued to struggle and fight with the damned thing. Even when I pulled Ziggy's big ole Buck knife out of the drawer and offered it to them.

I dunno...maybe I scared 'em? Or maybe it was the fact that I was wearin a nightgown and didn't have my face covered. They probably thought, "Aieeeeee! The woman is unclothed! She is disgraceful!" I had half a notion to try to help, put my hands all over the sofa and then say, "Oh, I'd probably better not do this...I started my period today."

"AIEEEEEE! UNCLEAN woman!" Bet we coulda had a free sofa. heh

So Zig and I stood here and watched while they switched places and sweated and grunted and jabbered in some language with a lotta "L"'s in it. Then they'd switch places again and jabber and grunt and sweat some more. In a stage whisper, I said to Zig, "I bet they're engineers."

I swear ta gawd...it looked like a monkey tryin to fuck a football. No, two monkeys.

After knocking down the 20 pound fire extinguisher off the hallway wall and my wreath off my front door, Ziggy finally stepped in and tried to help. Then, it looked like three monkeys tryin to fuck a football. Zig again suggested they cut some of the damn packing off, and...imagine that...they listened to him.

And, guess what? It helped. Duh. Between the three of 'em, they managed to get the monster around the corner, up over the stair railing and headed up the stairs.

Guess what else? The bastards didn't even say "Thank you".

I shoulda put my "unclean" hands all over it.