The Shelf That Required Two People (Technically)

September sixth. The context: our neighbor on the fourth floor asked if anyone could help her move a bookshelf up from the lobby, where the delivery guy had left it because, and I quote, he 'doesn't do stairs.' Fine. Reasonable. Simone and I happened to be standing in the lobby at the time. We said yes before either of us had looked at the shelf.

The shelf was not small. This is what I looked like approximately forty seconds into the first flight. Simone took that photograph instead of helping. Her reasoning, delivered very calmly at the bottom of the stairwell, was that someone needed to 'spot from below' in case I dropped it. I did not drop it. I did make a sound on the third-floor landing that I have decided not to describe.

We got it up. The shelf is upright. Our neighbor made us tea and apologized about four times, which was sweet and unnecessary, and we stood in her hallway for twenty minutes talking while our heart rates came back down.

Post-stairwell survival face.

That's the face I made when I finally leaned against the wall and took stock of what had just happened. Simone found it very funny. I also found it funny, slightly later.

Teamwork. Mostly hers.

For the record, Simone claims she 'helped throughout.' I am not going to argue with her here, publicly, on this blog that she definitely reads. What I will say is that the paper number I wrote for myself back in 2011, the one I used again in the spring, did not budget for chiropractic. Something to consider for next time.