keresaspa: (Gus Goose)
[personal profile] keresaspa
Pain, agony, ouch, etc. Or to put it another way, I'm a bit on the sore side right now. Today I decided would be a good day in which to do something I had been thinking about for a while now - moving a filing cabinet from my old bedroom upstairs to my newer place outside apropos of ensuring some new reading material for the long hours of insomnia. Unfortunately since I vacated my old bedroom it has become what is technically known as a midden, to wit a dumping ground for suitcases, clothes, exercise equipment, tins of paint and various other stuff that nobody really wants but that equally nobody wants to get rid of. So before anything could be done a path needed clearing amongst the rubbish. A terribly fiddly job involving lots of things falling, indeed the sort of hateful little slice of life that makes you miss the smokes (because no minor irritant happened to me as a smoker, you see). Once that was done the contents of the cabinet had to be emptied and dumped in my auld doll's room. Again fiddly with things falling.

Plain sailing from here on, I thought, not reckoning with the fact that our landing is narrower than Kate Moss on a hunger strike. As a consequence the clothes horse and clothes press that inhabit that area had to be moved temporarily to the bathroom. More things falling, more seething from my good self. I also hadn't reckoned with just how bloody heavy the cabinet was, even having been emptied. After just about managing to walk the bugger to the top of the stairs I was struck with the realisation that somehow it had to go down the bloody things. With a bit of thought it was decided that the only way would be for it to be laid flat and slid down the stairs, with me in front of it to ensure that it didn't go flying down and crash straight through the front door. That was the killer part! The weight of the bloody thing was immense, as I realised whilst trying to support it with my hands, to the extent that I only avoided a handful of notices in the Irish News through a sudden rush of adrenaline that allowed me to stop it braining me at the last second. Then, just as I suspected, as soon as it was on its back it took off with sudden velocity and I was forced to tilt it back up a bit in order to move it down more slowly. By this point it was crushing my chest somewhat severely and for once I was glad to be a fat man as, thinking on my feet, I took a page out of the weightlifting handbook and rested the load on my ample breadbasket. Having convinced myself I had a Terry Hollands physique I pressed on, although in fairness it stopped my ribs from cracking and my lungs from being punctured, so score one to the spare tyre (for a monster truck) which would be amply awarded with a fish supper later. Eventually I managed to get the cabinet down the stairs with just a bunch of bruises and a complete lack of breath for my trouble. The ordeal was not over as the back step still had to be negotiated as well as the raised part in front of my door but compared to the Gehenna that was the stairs they were easier than falling off a tightrope made of soap.

So as I said earlier, a bit on the sore side right now would be the crux of this story. Still a bunch of old football magazines, Dandy annuals and republican newspapers should keep me amused for a while so it's not all bad. Just mostly!
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