Possumblog

Of weak mind and strong back.

Well, now, that went just fine.

Despite my own misgivings, last night was spent high atop a pile o' gigantic heavy stuff.

Left and went over to the warehouse located over by the seedy edge of the UAB campus, confident that my weekend removal of the rear seats from the van would leave plenty of room for both mattress and box springs.

That's because a size comparison based on memory or upon estimation is generally trumped by reality. After waiting an inordinate amount of time by the loading dock and carefully keeping a watch on the screaming guy who kept wandering around across the street, the men came out of the warehouse with the goods. These were actual men--one was carrying the mattress by himself and talking on his cell phone.

They stopped at the edge of the dock and sized up the situation. "You gonna tie it on top?"

Hmm. I was kinda thinking they'd both fit. "Are you sure they both won't fit in the back?"

"Nah--the mattress too thick for 'em both to fit."

What else could I do?

They first shoved the mattress into the back, and sure enough, BOY that thing was thick! Then the delicate procedure of tieing down the box springs. Luckily, there is a roof rack up there, although this was the first time in ten years we'd ever used it. I was kinda worried it might just unfasten itself and I'd be left with a very expensive pile of junk in the road and a roof peeled back like a sardine can.

After about fifteen minutes of careful strapping with nylon strapping and tieing and pulling and wiggling and grunting, I was pronounced ready to go. I wasn't really so sure. The roof rack bars are bowed slightly upward, which meant the box springs could teeter-totter back and forth, even after it was tied down tight. Oh well.

ON TO HOME!

I did have sense enough not to even think about attempting the Interstate. I didn't want to be one of Those People. You know, the ones who are buzzing along at 80 when their mattress comes flying off and starts a 20 car chain reaction pile up. That would be bad.

So, the long slow drive down 1st Avenue North (aka US Highway 11), which is what people used to use before the Interstate was even a gleam in Papa Ike's eye. North Avondale, Woodlawn, East Lake, Roebuck, Huffman, Roebuck Plaza, and home. Not a bad drive, even at a blazing maximum speed of 30 mph. And since it was the middle of the afternoon, it didn't take too long, maybe 45 minutes or so. But then, there was the getting-it-in-the-house chore.

That took longer...

Posted by Terry Oglesby at April 26, 2005 09:08 AM