A place to sit by the curb
I ache, but I give thanks. The two old couches have finally left the house, on their way to wherever the city places furniture that no longer has a place to live. An appropriate sentiment for today (Canadian Thanksgiving) but I wish I didn’t feel so wracked and old after what seemed like a minor plan.
This started weeks ago. I called the city and made an appointment for their team of specialists (sanitary engineers with postgraduate degrees) to stop by. The city doesn’t like us leaving stuff by the curb without a plan in place. I marked it on my various calendars, and made arrangements for my local team to be on standby, what with the weather we’ve been having. Today had sunshine, tomorrow only warns of a possibility of showers; my date for pickup is early on Wednesday next, so we haven’t jumped the gun too much.
These are substantial pieces of furniture. Each contains a fullsize foldaway bed. Metal frames, metal springs, real mattresses: bottom line is that the couches weighed more than my team, collectively. We measured. We removed doors from their hinges. We measured again, and we played the mental version of Tetris. And then, we pushed and pulled. Hard. With sweat and bad jokes and a will to succeed.
The job required longer than I predicted, because we practiced safe moving. There was an ongoing risk of digit removal, as the couch kept unfolding and swaying as we flipped and flopped. Two sets of stairs, a gravel driveway, darkness; all required a little bit extra. And now, as the couches take up one parking space and my body aches, I give thanks that we have nothing else with that kind of weight on the list of things to throw away.
