Get your move on
We have slowly been cleaning and moving into the new house. After the ancient-looking oven threw a tantrum and decided to remain locked when the self-cleaning mode was clearly over (solved quite MacGyver-ishly by Jason’s Dad and friend removing the locking mechanism – take THAT, stubborn cooking appliance!), we did an inspection of all the other appliances and deemed them adequate.
So don’t be getting any ideas, Mr. Dishwasher! Or you either, Ms. Microwave, with your sometimes confusing instructions in Spanish! Or especially YOU, Mr. Freezer, with all the black dog hair I cleaned out of you – seriously, did the previous owners eat their pets? But you, Ms. Washer and Mr. Dryer – I’m cool with you.
Wednesday we moved the gigantor CD shelf of Jason’s. At the time, I was inwardly thinking that this was the heaviest thing I had ever had the displeasure to move. Because it’s sturdy as hell, about 37 feet tall, and Jason insisted we could leave all the shelves in there. (He does stuff like this all the time, insisting on moving chests and drawers with the crap still inside because “it saves time,” while I am more of the camp to remove crap because “it saves my sanity, not to mention my weeny back muscles.”)
So we moved the CD shelf to the house, where I was surprised to see another newly purchased CD shelf downstairs, ready to be assembled. Our living room is going to resemble a CD store. I wish I were joking. (Total number of CDs I own: around 80. Total number Jason owns: approximately 750. Number of CDs we have in common: 2. Current CD storing capacity: 1500.)
After that, I figured my adventures in heavy lifting were over (hence the muscular friends with pickup trucks helping tomorrow). But no, someone that may or may not have been ME decided it would be nice to move the fish tank ahead of time. So we drained about 2/3 of the tank and despite all the advice ever written claiming, “DO NOT EVER, EVER MOVE FISH WHILE THEY ARE STILL IN THE TANK,” we kept the fish in the tank because: 1) These fish are HUGE and the portable tanks I own are laughably inadequate, 2) the last time I tried to put one of the fish in the little holding tank it lasted 45 minutes before it died, and 3) the last time I waited to move the fish until moving day, it was 90 degrees and we couldn’t get the water temp regulated in time, so as friends were stopping by to see the house, I had to make them avert their eyes so that they wouldn’t see fish doing the death spiral in the tank.
But as soon as I lifted the tank, I felt roughly 18 of my back muscles tear into 43 different pieces, sprinkling shrapnel down the length of my spine.
Jason: “Are you OK?”
Me: (Obviously NOT OK) “Yeah, let’s go.”
Shuffle to the doorway.
Me: “OK, I’ve got to set this down.”
Jason: “OK. You’re doing good, babe.”
(You know how hard it is to set down a glass tank that weighs about 250 pounds? There is NO easy way to do it, unless you don’t mind, oh I don’t know, severing all of your fingers.)
Jason: “Are you ready again?”
Me: “Yep.”
Lift, shuffle to doorway leading downstairs, where some unkind neighbor decided to kick out our door holder. Thanks, jerk!
Begin slow descent down 34 steps, with back arching into wholly unnatural angle and shoulders giving up and going home.
Me: “I have to set it down again.”
Jason: {sighs} “OK.”
At that point, I was huffing and puffing like I’d never done a physical act in my life. I was also thinking, “These fish are dumb, who cares if they’re giant enough to filet, they only cost 39 cents apiece, let’s start fresh.” Right as I was disavowing myself of my Pisces status and thinking of converting to Taurus, Stewart, the largest and most evil of our fish, performed a magnificent, panicked splash that sent dirty fishwater directly into my gaping, gasping mouth.
Me: “Ick!!! Let’s go.”
Jason: “You got it.”
Descend the rest of the stairs, where we discovered that the rock we wedged very carefully in the doorframe was missing. Vow to find person responsible and kick his ass.
Get outside. Another angry fish splashes us.
Me: “I have to put this down again.”
Jason: “…”
I then got the brilliant idea to back my car right up to the building, up on the sidewalk and everything. Then I decreed that if anyone said ONE WORD about this no-no, I would punch them very hard in the face with what was left of my rapidly disappearing strength.
Jason ended up lifting the tank and manhandling it by himself into the back seat of my car. The fish were giving me the stinkeye in the backseat, and I had the nightmarish vision of one of them jumping out, flipping underneath my seat and attacking my ankle as I’m driving.
We got to the house without incident, and set the base of the tank up. Jason went to get the tank out of my seat.
Jason: “Be ready to help when I say so, OK?”
Me: “Got it.”
Jason then grabbed the tank, yelled, “Grab the door for me,” and proceeded to carry the tank all the way into the house by himself, with water splashing over his shirt with every stride. He looked like one of those World’s Strongest Man competitors. It was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.
Fishtank Move 2005 Status – Complete
Happiness and Comfort Level of Fish in New Tank Water – 100%
Jason Superhero Status and Girlfriend Adoration Phase – Engaged
