This is an equation that has been true as long as I can remember. Any time we moved anywhere, which was not very often in my childhood but fairly often in college, there would be a bucket of chicken when the day of hard work ended.
I suppose it was because fried chicken was a really easy and filling meal to be had. I mean pizza is always an option, but something about getting it delivered to an address you didn't even know was a bit of a hassle. Running up to the local chicken shack and grabbing some chicken always just made more sense.
I can remember in college when we would be desperate for help on yet another move that we would promise our friends a bucket of chicken and a case of cold beer come the end of the day. I find that almost nothing motivates
This past weekend we helped the husbeasts mom move to a new apartment, and afterwards we decided to reward ourselves with a big meal of fried chicken at Babe's Chicken, our favorite chicken place. As we were standing at the UHaul counter checking the truck in I mentioned this plan and the woman laughed. She told us that most of her customers chose to go to Babe's or get fried chicken after a move.
In that moment I realized that our little tradition was not just ours. It made sense in our heads, but it wasn't strange and unique. It was a common tradition to a lot of people. Moving really did equal fried chicken. Sure there are people who do burgers or pizza or spaghetti, but fried chicken really is a pretty normal way to end a moving day.
I am just happy that moving equals fried chicken, but fried chicken doesn't equal moving. I love me some fried chicken, but I despise moving. In fact the fried chicken really is the only thing I like about having to move.