Lifting is a Man's Job

I awoke to a quandary this morning. How to get my mammoth blue couch, circa 1995, out of my livingroom and into the garage so's to make way for my production equipment. Due to my impatience of tv commercials I abandon sitting and watching the idiot box years ago. Until I get TiVo I refuse to rot whats left of my attention span on meddlesome marketing mantras. Who in the world can sit through 14 minutes of rhetoric wrapped around a 13 minute show? I surely can't. So, it's out with the couch and in with a new supply room for my video equipment. But, again, how to move a behemoth couch when it's just me doing the lifting?

Knock, Knock....

I peak out the door. Why lookie who's here right in the knick of time - it's everyone's friend Bobbie E! A strong, capable, semi-young (or at least young at heart), strapping man who can heave this couch straight over his shoulders and toss the thing right out the door. Bob grabs one and I grab the other. Mutti and little sis do what they can. It's an team effort after all. We push, we pull, we squeeze and we shimmy. We tip it one way and then another. We mangle the sides and tear up the door frame and crack the hinges but it's still as far from the garage as it was before Bob arrived. So much for testosterone lifting. Furniture lifting is no easy eandeavor and even with 4 of us it takes several minutes to spring the couch from it's inner sanctum. Finally, with one last mighty shove the beast is out on it's end.

Whew! Wonder how long she'll sit in the garage until I find another brawny man to help me haul her to the dump....any volunteers?