Bring Enough Guys?
After the fire, Sugar has been shopping for some replacement furniture. For our old log house, we decorate with cowboy stuff mostly. Shiny modern furniture does not fit the ambiance of our ranch decor. So, Sugar found some vintage cowboy furniture, probably made in the 50s. The couple advertising it on the internet had it in their basement. Their basement (and the rest of their house) is located 80 miles from our ranch.
When Sugar called and arranged for us to pick it up two days ago, the lady said, “You better bring three strong men because the sofa bed is really heavy.”
So Sugar brought me. Alone. That is the equivalent of three strong men, she thought, apparently. She ought to know, having witnessed my feats of strength for many years.
I am more modest about myself than Sugar is about me. I asked the lady if there were some young guys in her neighborhood in Denver, a city of hundreds of thousands of people, whom we could hire to help get the furniture out of her basement. She told me that they live in an older neighborhood and she did not know of anyone who could help. Then she added, “My husband will be home. His name is Steve.”
Steve answered the door. His granddaughter was there too. She is in 5th grade, she told us.
Steve and I wrestled the sofa bed out of a door from the basement and up some outside steps up to the yard. I took the bottom. Steve used a two-wheeled hand truck. We got the thing up the steps, through the backyard, and through a gate to the driveway. Then, together, we got it into the bed of my pickup truck. Whew!
There was also a matching chair and a cabinet. No problem — until I was standing in the bed of the truck trying to fit the cabinet in between the side of the truck and the sofa. Despite my remarkable strength and coordination, I stepped off the end of the truck, which does not have a tailgate. I landed on my back and kinda jiggled my brain but did not crack my head. I jumped up, put the cabinet and chair in the truck, and started to strap them in, when Miss Sugar came upstairs and outside to the driveway.
I wasn’t going to mention my fall, but Steve, a tattletale, told Sugar that I fell out of the truck and landed on my back in the driveway while holding the cabinet.
Sugar was very concerned, and immediately checked the condition of the cabinet. It was okay.
So am I.
A member of the general public would have likely suffered great injury, perhaps even a broken back and/or concussion. It could have been very, very bad for a lesser being.
Fortunately, it was just me. God watches out for fools, they say.
P.S. You are wondering how Sugar and I got the sofa bed into our house. You wonder whether we have steps. We do. Sugar told me how to build a ramp. We used it to get the sofa out of the truck and up the stairs of the deck. I pushed it up the steps. Sugar helped me “walk” it back and forth up to the door. Then we put it on rugs to slide on the hardwood floor. Brains and brawn — what a combination. (Sugar’s hand kinda hurts today. She is just a girl, albeit a smart one. Sugar is smart, strong, and cute too.) Speaking of myself, one out of three ain’t bad.