My husband knows that my version of Feng Shui includes moving impossibly large objects around the house like chess pieces. I always claim it’s to create more harmony in the house, but really I’m just bored and looking for something to do.
The only thing I haven’t tried to move is our grand piano. Let me rephrase that: The only thing I did not succeed at moving by myself was the grand piano. As soon as I figure out how to flip it on its side without the lid opening, it’s gone.
A few weeks ago I was up to my usual tricks when I found myself in an unusual situation.
I was moving a small bookcase end-over-end up my stairs when mid-flight I got stuck. By stuck I mean I had the heavy object perched at a 45 degree angle, with no means of moving forward or backward. As is typical of a Saturday afternoon, each member of my family was either out, wearing headphones or zombified by electronic media. Not one member of my family heard my high-pitched yelp for help.
The situation deteriorated as I held shaky arms up over my head, both surrendering and succumbing to the book case which by good fortune I had enough sense to empty. (It could’ve gone either way.)
After reality set in, I decided to heave the furniture, leveraging a Valsalva maneuver that both strengthened me and unblocked my Eustachian tubes.
I hurled the book case up and away from me like a monolithic shot put. Mid-push, I lost my bearings and barely caught my balance.
Finally at the top of the stairs, I visualized the “almost me” at the bottom of the stairs under a heap of cheap laminate. “That was close!” I thought, followed by, “What in tarnation was I thinking?” and “What the heck does tarnation mean?”
The answer is, I was thinking that if I didn’t hoist that book case upstairs by myself it wouldn’t get done at all. I was thinking that later is really now, because now is now, and later never happens.
I was trying to avoid what I call procrastagnation: putting things off which results in a lack of forward motion.
What I learned was that sometimes pushing too hard can result in losing more than a little forward motion. What I earned was four weeks of excruciating back pain and bed rest. “Later” became unavoidable; very little can be accomplished while wrapped in a heating pad and covered in Eau de Biofreeze.
Somewhere between the first and second floor I lost a little piece of my soul. I hope the cleaning lady didn’t suck it up in the vacuum. I’ll need all the help I can get to move the piano.