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Monday, April 7, 2008

Too Old For This

We moved a lot of stuff this weekend. And we moved it in unconventional ways.

The Man’s parents are moving. That was their big news. This actually was big news because I thought they would die in this house. And then we would have to burn it down because there is not a chance that we were going to go through all their stuff. SO MUCH STUFF. I cannot describe the amount of stuff they have and they are unwilling to part with it despite the fact that they cannot move it and will never use it again. I really cannot describe it. They belong on Oprah or something. So I guess we’ll have to burn down their new place after they die.

Anyway, they gave us a nice bedroom set for our room, a big boy bed for The Boy, and two bar stools. Let me pause here and say that everything we took from them is solid oak or mahogany. This is important to know for two reasons. One – it’s heavy stuff. Two – The Man’s father wouldn’t shut up about it the entire weekend. All weekend it was, “This is the real thing. No veneer. No, you can’t buy stuff like this anymore. There’s no veneer on this. You can tell it’s good because it’s lasted so long. No veneer on this, it’s real oak.” Blah blah. My only requirement for free furniture is that it’s free. I don’t care about anything else. It could have the words “THIS IS VENEER” scratched into all of it for all I care. I felt like making him a sign like those no parking signs with a red circle and a line across the front of the “P” only instead of a “P” I’d put the word “VENEER” in there. I get it. You think veneer sucks.

To add to the fact that this stuff was very heavy, it is also awkward to move things into our house because it has two stories. The first story is not a problem. But the second floor is more difficult to maneuver. Mostly because the stairs are in the back of the house, in an enclosed hallway, and has a landing, which creates a difficult L shape.

Our new bed was not a problem because it came apart and The Man just carried the pieces up himself. The dresser went up the stairs fine, no tricky movements, just heavy and big. The Boy’s bed created the problem. It is one large piece and it has a head and foot built into it, so it makes a long “U” shape. We tried to make the turn on the landing and it was wedged. We tried to stand it up straight on the landing and it was wedged. The Man came up with the genius idea to hoist it up over the second floor balcony and take it in through the master bedroom balcony door. Crazy? Yes. Did it work? Yes. My dad came to help and I am shocked that the bed did not fall and shatter into a million pieces. We got it in the door and then tried to get it from our room into The Boy’s room. Do you know what happened? It was wedged in the hallway. They had to stand it up on its end in the hall without hitting the hall light on the ceiling and the thermostat on the wall and take it in the tall way through The Boy’s bedroom door. It worked. I didn’t think it would. The Boy only had one new piece of furniture, but I was more excited about that piece than any of the others, just because it took so much work to get it in there.

I am proud of us though because normally a project like this would result in several fights, pretty bad ones, where we would be angry with each other all weekend. And this weekend, I only yelled one time, and it was because my finger was smashed into a wall. So even though I cursed at The Man, it wasn’t really directed at him.

And my body is spent. I have bruises and places where muscles are sore where I didn’t even know muscles existed. The Man is the same way. Ten years ago when we moved me into an upstairs apartment with my roommate, our bodies were fine. And then when we moved me again, into my own place approximately THREE MONTHS later, our bodies were fine again. When we moved into our condo, I was pregnant and didn’t have to do a dang thing, and The Man and his friends did all the work. NO PROBLEM with his body. So why now, only five and a half years later, would it be such a big deal?!? What happened in five years that we can no longer request our bodies to perform physically without the consequence of pain and soreness?

Getting old sucks.

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