Friday, December 11, 2009

Yes, we can if we have to

Hold on, I'm about to blow things all out of proportion again. You know what this is? This is a picture of a treadmill, a treadmill that weighs more than anything I've ever tried to lift before, stands as tall as I do when it's folded up, that was deposited in a box a hallway away from its final resting place, and that does not fit through the door when it is fully assembled.

I know this for a fact.

It took me two nights, two attempts, a whole lotta brain power and mental anguish and I've lost a little paint on the doorjamb, but I did this. All. By. Myself. Should I have? Definitely not. But all the single ladies (all the single ladies, all the single put ya hands up) and some of the married ones know that we attempt all sorts of things we shouldn't all by ourselves. And, as usually happens, I get something started and I have no other choice but to keep going until the bitter end, especially if it means saving a glass curio cabinet. And I can do it. Even when I don't think I can (as in the face of heavy things, mechanical assembly, and bolt-turning fits of rage and/or despair), I can. I really don't want to but I can. Don't call me to help you put yours together. This is my last treadmill assembly. I'm pretty sure of it. I'll take up the unicycle for exercise if it comes down to having to wrassle one of these boogers together again. And just as soon as my arms go back into socket and the muscles across the top of my abdomen stop jumping around, I'm going to hop right on and try it out. For now I know that lots of lights come on and things beep when you plug it in. And that's enough for tonight.

So it's just a treadmill and the epic battle of woman against lump of machine, but it is out of the living room. And as I manhandled it through the too-small doorway, this song kept running through my head. Here's the video, a very good example of many things that were right and many things were wrong with 80s dancing and fashion.

Now, for my next feat, I'm thinking of attacking car salesmen all on my own. I have my car back, supposedly in just fine condition, no harm done. I do know it behaved as it should on the way home (via the gas station because all the testing turned up a gas tank on E when I picked it up). I'll see if I'm up for a reconciliation. The thought of ever going back to that service department fills me with dread but it's gotta be cheaper than breaking things off and starting something new.

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