I helped my sister and brother-in-law move in yesterday. Up one flight of stairs into a cute apartment that a friend of mine used to live in. Up and down. Boxes, totes, lamps. Again using my body. It felt good.
We moved their queen-sized mattress in, finagling it through the stair landing. “Pivot!!” came to mind. We got it up, but it was flexible. The box spring was next. Thankfully, a random 14-year-old offered his help. He had fresh muscles and pride to pull his weight. We got it to the landing and tried to make our turn. “A little more this way.” Lifting from underneath with full body, pushing from head or neck or back. And then, we got it lodged in there pretty good. We all doubted if we’d make it, maybe we couldn’t even get it free. It was close. Just a few more inches. The bottom corner looked like it had some room, so I somehow got myself into corner — trapped like the mattress, so we’d have to both get free. I started pulling and pushing and doing whatever I could to wriggle it free, sweating like a maniac. Libby and Ben and our new friend Zach were doing all they could. The plaster on the stairwell “chipped” in, too. And then it went.
We had a few other things to go. More boxes. A dresser. And a sleeper couch. It was decently heavy, not the worst sleeper couch, but awkward. I was at the top end, pulling, pulling. We were so close, but wedged in the doorframe. I was on the inside, and the other three were outside. “Ok, before we can tilt it down, we need it to move my way. Ready? Go!” I lifted and pulled. Again. One last time. Made it!
I descended the stairs panting and soaked, feeling strong.
Then we unpacked. I did a lot of the kitchen. I felt valuable.
When we were all done for the night, I was exhausted. I needed to leave much before I did. In order to lead the way for Mom and Dad, I was swinging my car around the wrong way out of an angled parking spot. “How convenient. No one’s parked on my right.” CRUNCH! Turns out no one was parked on the right because a fire hydrant lives there. And it wanted to remove my front bumper. “FUUUUUCK.” I got out and looked. All I could do was swear and cry. In five minutes, I could laugh. But at that moment, I sure didn’t feel strong anymore.