I can't describe how many hundreds of feet I've carried pieces of furniture way beyond my strength capabilities. On Saturday I found a cabinet/shelf item in the trash right by my friend John's apartment. Poor John being in the wrong place at the wrong time was enlisted to help me haul it--all 100+ pounds of it--to my place about 10 minutes away. We made it about a third of the way and were about to quit because it was so heavy and so very goddamn hot, when an Eastern European man in a van pulled up and offered to help us. Dazed by exhaustion and heat we accepted--possibility of a brutal double murder be damned--and it worked out well. Until I got the damn thing up to my room and discovered that it was infested with cockroaches. I then single-handedly slid it back down the stairs and with the help of an elderly Puerto Rican neighbor sent it back to whence it came (the trash).
The next day I found a small bedside cabinet at a resale shop for $10 and decided to schlep it back myself. It worked out OK, but my arms are so sore that I truly have trouble lifting glasses of water to my mouth.
But the best news is that I have a new (well, used, but new for me) bike and it is now assembled thanks to the generous Boston-NYC cycling community:
I can't wait to get it out on the street and start being terrified for my life on a daily basis!
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