About building a grill, moving a bed and planning my own deportation

Today Carter and Julie were moving into their new apartment. Boxes, chairs, couch and even a grill experienced the trill of their lives as they traveled across the city. We were joking, eating pica, working between brakes and in every way having a great time. Guys were putting together furniture; girls were unpacking cloth and dishes. At first Carter and I put together a dresser – piece of cake if you do it with “mister fix it” (and I don’t mean myself). Then Jeff and I tackled the grill – fun, fun, fun – however there was no gas so we don’t really know if we did it or not. But then all of us took on the computer desk. It was like putting together a jigsaw puzzle without knowing what it is suppose to look like at the end. Needles to say, at the end there were extra pieces left and bolts that never found their way into this colossal construction. At one point I was sitting on the floor by the window, drinking milk with coffee and thinking how badly I do not want to be deported. I want to see if Julie and Carter will have a happy home and if they will have decency to name their firstborn after me or not (I will even settle for a middle name). I want to be there when this dresser gets old and when grill runs out of gas again. Somehow this fear of me being kicked out of Canada became so real that I started to plan goodbye party in my head. (It will be a great party but some other time about that)
And then I wondered if Brendon will bring a box of my favourite root bear to my goodbye party. I hope he will.