When we moved from the city to our small town nearby, we were excited to be moving to a place only thirty years old. Our first home was built in 1926, so the next one, constructed in 1967, was practically brand new in our eyes.
Now here we are in something absolutely untouched by human hands other than our own - not counting the drywall guys, painters, rug men, and tile crew. It takes some getting used to. Not to mention a learning curve. I spent the first days here unpacking, cleaning, and moving things from one place to another. This was followed by aching legs and total exhaustion. Why was I so tired? Sure, I’d been on my feet all day, but I’ve done the same amount of work at home without feeling like all the bulls of Pamplona had tap danced across me.
I’m a simple girl, accustomed to the linoleum in the kitchen and the hardwood floors (badly in need of care) at our house in Massachusetts. It took a full two days before I realized that I’m in the 21st century, now living with hard tile floors capable of working havoc on your back and legs. I have a new and profound respect for museum guards as they shift their weight on those marble floors.
I also discovered the absolute, gotta have ‘em, most important tools of moving.
Even though one shoulder is now so low as to rival that of Igor’s, I now travel nowhere without my giant tape measure. I’ve used it at Big Lots to gauge how high an organizer to buy for the junk drawer, and whether the lamp at Home Depot will be tall enough to provide a decent reading light for Himself. (It would also likely provide excellent ballast should I need to belt someone with my purse, Ruth Buzzi-style.)
The other crucial tool is a pair of scissors. I’m already on my second pair, having finally destroyed the valiant first pair. EVERYTHING you buy today is encased a rock-hard shell of plastic, and then strapped onto another piece of plastic inside. Then you have your tags, and loops, and ties.
Unless you only want to view your new objects, impregnable in their nuclear-proof shell, or never intend to put that chair for the porch together, you need a good pair of scissors.
Tonight, though, there was an extreme emergency. My el-cheapo corkscrew died at a really crucial moment. It still pays to know your way around a toolbox.
One of my friends said,"People shouldn't move when they're seventy!" Whether or not your seventy, have a smooth move.ReplyDelete
Not there yet - but what's wrong with moving at 70?ReplyDelete
If anything, as we get older we learn that life is still full of adventures.
Your extreme emergency was just that. I have in the past pushed the cork into the bottle...ReplyDelete
And you are so right about scissors. And the tape measure.
Didn't even think of pushing the cork back in - too panic-stricken, I guess.Delete
Love your makeshift corkscrew :)ReplyDelete
I've always thought I'd love to live in a house with hard tile floors, I didn't realise they would have a different effect on feet and legs. I'd have to invest in some air-sole sneakers.
Very enterprising, and probably the best use of a pair of pliers that I've ever seen! (Those are pliers, right?!)ReplyDelete
I'm thinking you need to get yourself some really comfy shoes that have a bit of extra padding in them for all that walking around on hard tile floors. I did the same and now am a fan of Crocs for just about everything. :-)ReplyDelete
I immediately went out and bought two pairs of cheap and spongy flip flops.Delete
This was my life years ago and I am exhausted reading your re-telling. You will love it all when it is cozy and done!ReplyDelete
Gotta admit I'm enjoying all this nest building.Delete
When we were first married, our furniture was two orange crates that I'd decorated with day-glo paint.
Invest in good mats for your kitchen floor and your lower back will thank you.ReplyDelete
Ooh, my first apartment had those same day-glo orange crates. Good move on the cushioned shoes. Pretty sure the floors were the pain source.ReplyDelete
Enjoy creating your brand new home. You have a blank slate to work with.
if I carried a purse I would definitely have those items with me. especially the scissors. I remember a time when I could open packages. can't even open a bag of potato chips these days, have to cut the damn things open, and it's not because I've lost my strength. those things are made of flexible steel and the tops are welded shut. because they think people are going to steal the chips inside?ReplyDelete
Thank goodness you thought of the pliers! I am often stymied by the hard casings of plastic on products. Are they meant to discourage shoplifters? Children's toys are some of the worst. Hope your legs soon get accustomed to the harder surfaces. I, too, have some marble and tile, but I don't seem to mind it.ReplyDelete