forearm bruises are so sexay

This weekend is all about hauling massive pieces of furniture to and fro. On Friday, friends picked up the surreally heavy and unwieldy office furniture that has lived in this house like big oak-veneered albatrosses. I warned them that these pieces are heavy (like, can’t even budge them one inch by myself) but they really didn’t get it until they tried to hoist the stupid L-shaped desk and the stinking credenza onto their truck. However, they got it (not ‘er) done and hopefully made some money for a good cause (raising money for friends that lost everything in a fire). I also included boxes of many “treasures” from a house that seems to generate more clutter the more I de-clutter.

Yesterday, I got to move items from one storage space (containing 90% of all my possessions) to a larger storage space in preparation for this summer’s (big fat awful backbreaking) house sale and move. With me was my dear friend E, who probably was just being polite a few months ago when he offered to help with this kind of stuff. You have to be very careful about what you promise to “Ol’ Elephant Memory” Hambox.

The awfulness of this task was contained, thanks in all parts to E, who is very strong, has good grasp of spatial dimensions, and is fun to be around. We had a laugh, thinking about these poor pieces of furniture who thought they were finally going to a real home and to freedom, but were actually just being transferred to another jail. Turns out, furniture of every size has a high-pitched cartoon voice. The lamps were particularly pathetic when, as they were being loaded on a cart for transfer, they gleefully asked if they were “going on a ride now? huh? huh?”

E is related to my dear departed friend Turquoise, who helped me pack my possessions when I last moved, three years ago. Turq, being cut from the same humor cloth as E, labeled almost every box she packed with a drawing, pun, or other random snippet. It was a delight to revisit her singular humor. “This box contains towels — AND DISHES! Careful, fool!”

So it’s not all bad, although I’m bruisey (so pretty) and sore-y and crabby today. I have to muscle a few more pieces then reassemble the now-exploded office. I’m reconciling with the fact that the next few months will be series of explosions of crap, followed by semi-organization. You gotta make a mess to create organization, right? Right? This will end someday, right?

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Furniture that was built in a time when people didn’t move homes much. Goodbye, 12-ton credenza.

 

 

 

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Goodbye, L-shaped desk of doom. You are bad, bad, for squashing Diego’s finger while being loaded on your truck.

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Joe and Diego being superhuman and stylish at the same time.