I feel this has been an evolving career
development over the past few years as the wonderful offspring have moved on with their lives. But somehow, for some inexplicable reason, we are still called upon to do the occasional uplift of household items.
To the absolute credit of both of them they have been the best up-cyclers when it comes to taking on second-hand items. As we upgraded, down-sized and then up-sized again our belongings have had a second and sometimes third life in their new homes. Which is a wonderful and economically/environmentally savvy thing. I applaud the notion and fully respect the commitment to reusing fridges, couches, beds, entertainment units, tvs, washing machines, dryers, mats, chairs, tables, outdoor furniture, trailers, microwaves and a myriad of smaller electrical items. It is commendable.
And I suspect at this point you might be about to sense the however element in this story. This is it.
Over the last few years we have deconstructed and folded up and repackaged many of these items and hoisted them into the back of all the vehicles we have ever driven and conveyed said items to the grateful recipients. At the other end we have heaved the carefully balanced, heavy as hell, items out of said vehicles and hefted them into their new abodes. Note the words hefted, hoisted and at this point I’ll allow heaved to join them. It’s undoubtedly a bugger of a job. Things of a heavy nature that have to be twisted and held above one’s head to make any progress is really hard work. Compounded by the fact that, if I’m being very honest, I’m not particularly tall. My husband who is the co-worker in this venture is quite tall. The differential has during the furniture uplift experiences caused some tension, the odd injury and a tiny bit of bad language
.
Sometimes we have only been able to make the final relocation if we have co-opted a friend to help boost the item the last few centimetres into an already over-stacked boot. The family motto has become Hoist or Die. (This was coined one Christmas Eve when we had to play Santa for a friend’s children by constructing a trampoline). It has served us well.
The latest venture was a run to Melbourne. We left late so had to have a night in a country hotel to avoid dragging the considerable load and sorry selves into the city in the wee hours. Husband was worried that the car might be broken into, and the things stolen. I saw the possibility as a potentially happy outcome. One lot of removal duties rendered obsolete. Not lucky enough for that to happen so we had to divest our vehicle of its bounty at the new location. Only up one floor this time (thankfully an elevator eased some of the pain), some awkward turns through doors and between other cars with no damage to humans or belongings. Just the one spectacular argument about who should have to walk backwards…the person with bad shoulders or the one with the broken foot! The short person loses because allegedly they can’t see over the tall person to warn of impending doom.
I do believe the parental furniture delivery service will soon be closing. Surely there is an age restriction on doing this job! I believe there is only one more delivery to be done. The short journey up the Clyde this time with a couch strapped to the top of the SUV. Repeated stops required to check the integrity of the tie-downs and the impact of the prevailing winds. Then it should be done.
I say done but we still wonder at which point either child will retrieve the many boxes containing the remnants of their pre-adult lives. In all of the up-cycling neither has decided to claim these lovingly curated cartons of the past. They are much better in our care according to child one and two.
So to all the parental furniture delivery service folks out there well done on your tireless labour of love. Well done for every flight of stairs, all the impossibly narrow doorways, the long treks in over-stacked cars, the hefting up and over balustrades and the tightlipped arguments about who’s not lifting high enough. I’m seriously thinking about unionising us!!
Hoist or Die. Paddy Mustard 2021
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